Too Much Lemonade
by Memory25
Summary: Sometimes Life gives you lemons, so you make lemonade. But sometimes the only things you get are lemons, and then sooner or later you run out of sugar to add with the lemonade and let me tell you, lemonade without sugar is disgusting. Self-Insert
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story I've been writing on the side, even before I decided to start on Adoption. Looks like I'm running into a wall at the moment, so I'm just going to put up other things and see how people like it. Almost all my ideas are insertions, but yeah, I like them. So there. This one's basically an insert of 'myself' into Sawada Tsunayoshi, because I wanted to try something well-used and probably overdone but see if I could manage not to screw it up. And to those who've read Adoption, I'm pretty sure they already know how much I like exploring untold childhoods. **

**In this case, it'll probably be a lot more serious than Adoption, but hey, I was in a different mood. Hopefully you guys like it. I'll see about brushing up the next chapter and uploading it. **

* * *

Ever wonder what happens after death? Well, of course you have. Everyone's given at least a thought to what happens after they expire and I'm no different.

I often debated between an eternal afterlife and a constant cycle of reincarnations. On rainy days, the afterlife won, on good ones, I was rather of the opinion that I'd like to stay on Earth just a little longer.

Unfortunately, it seems I wouldn't have that question put to rest just yet.

While it wasn't death that brought me into this world, it was death that was the result when I was pulled in.

I sometimes still wonder if it had been the right thing to do—if I was the right person for such a great responsibility, but most times I've stopped wondering.

I just do.

After all, it's obvious that there was nobody worthy enough to _completely _replace one Sawada Tsunayoshi.

xXXx

My eyes cracked opened slowly, still heavy from sleep and disappearing dreams. I blinked rapidly several times to clear my vision—my eyes usually got really dry and/or gummy when I slept, and sometimes I wouldn't be able to see straight even after I'd fully awakened.

Shaking my head, I rubbed my still-blurry left eye a little before looking around.

I promptly rubbed my eyes and blinked frantically again. My sight was usually a little skewed in the morning, but never like _this._

Where was I? I couldn't tell you even if I tried—so surreal it appeared. I was floating in midair, surrounded by what seemed to be galaxies and stars and slowly orbiting planets. The sight was very captivating and I sighed dreamily (pun intended).

Well, I didn't get to enjoy the view for very long because a voice piped up right in my ear.

"Finally! We've got a lot of stuff to go through—you took your time waking up!"

Spinning around but finding nothing, I shrugged in answer to the possible Cheshire Cat watching over me.

"Okay! Here's the deal—we need you to replace one Sawada Tsunayoshi's place in his world. That's the one you know as Katekyo Hitman Reborn manga by the way."

_I'm sorry, wahhhh?_

But, being the very adaptable person I am, I deadpanned.

"I'm a girl."

I had a feeling that he had waved his hand absently, "Doesn't matter. Souls don't have a fixed gender. It's more a mind thing."

I blinked. _Well._

I had never thought myself fanciful enough to actually _dream_ up a self-insert scenario—much less one as the vaunted Vongola Decimo himself.

And truth be told, I didn't really want to. Powerful as he became later on, spending the first 15 years of his life as _Dame-Tsuna_ wasn't exactly something I'd wish to go through. And even if I were allowed to skip ahead right into the KHR arc… I'd never fancied myself a hero and I certainly would never be able to amass as much support as the eternally soft-hearted and generous original.

So, I shook my head. _No thanks._

"… That's not exactly the deal. You don't get a choice on replacing him. And get it out of your mind that this is a dream. It isn't."

I deadpanned at the air in front of me. _What else could it be?_

I yelped at a sharp pinch of pain at my side, clasping hands to it. While I did get injured in dreams, the feelings were usually more vague and distant than this…

_It'll take more than that to convince me that something as strange as this is real… _

"Then how about I show you your body?" The voice snarked impatiently.

A window opened up beside me. Peering into it, I could make out me on my bed cocooned in my soft quilt as was my usual habit. The view was strange and slightly disconcerting, like looking into a mirror that was slanted, but still allowing peripheral vision. I stared a little before something caught my eye.

I wasn't breathing.

There was new meaning to Cheshire's words. I've dreamt of dead people, of dying, of killing and just general mayhem, but I've never actually pictured my own death so clearly. There was a distant feel of impending panic, which I hurriedly squashed in order to ask the obvious question.

"Why am I not breathing?"

My throat was dry without my morning cup of water and the sound I made was more akin to croaking than speaking, but the words were discernible.

"Isn't it obvious? You're dead."

I always thought that dry swallowing was impossible, but my mouth and throat were completely dry when I did so. My hands had started shaking and I took deep breaths. _Denial_ was always the first step, even more so in such an unbelievable context, but keeping calm was a habit I had practiced religiously.

_This may be a dream, but I still have to deal with it. Maybe I'll laugh when I wake up, but before that, I'll roll with it._

Was I taking things well? I wasn't a shrieking wreck, but neither was I completely on the ball. In fact, everything had a slightly fuzzy edge. Of course, I was still skeptical, which probably made up the core of my calm, but some doubt had pervaded and was taking tiny bites out of that calm. It felt like Cthulu. Or some other eldritch abomination.

"Okay. So. What did you want from me?" I croaked again, voice wavering slightly.

"Didn't I just say? You're to replace Sawada Tsunayoshi." Cheshire was beginning to sound irritated. I briefly entertained the thought of snapping back, but caution stayed my tongue.

"In what context? Like. Am I going to replace him as a whole, removing the person Sawada Tsunayoshi and putting '…' in his place? Or Sawada Tsunayoshi still exists and I'm taking his name?"

I guess the unstupid questions mollified Cheshire, for he answered more evenly, "You'll be taking over his body, so you'll be taking his name too."

And obviously, the next question to ask would be,

"Why?"

"Suffice to say the details are not important. The gist of the matter is that Sawada Tsunayoshi, the future Vongola Decimo, has died and thus a replacement is required because of the importance of his existence in his world. As physical transfers are messy and generally cause even more chaos, it was decided that a soul transfer would be done."

The question after _that_ was obvious too,

"Why me?"

"You are the only person bearing a Sky Flame of a high enough concentration within the closest 15,000,864 worlds who also has no particular importance to the fate of your world."

…

Curiosity won over caution. That, and I usually find that keeping focus helps me keep in control and thus, calm.

"What makes you think that I will succeed in replacing him? And are you serious? I have Sky Flames? I would have thought that Mist flames or Rain flames would be closer to my personality."

"Wrong. Your personality is actually closer to Cloud flames in your indifference to the fate of others. However, your will is not strong enough to stand alone, which is why you are not completely secluded despite wishing to be."

…

Oblivious to, or intentionally ignoring, my sudden identity crisis, Cheshire continued in the snooty monotone he had taken on.

"You have some cunning, however you are not nearly devious enough for the Mist flame, and while you keep your calm, it is not something that occurs to you naturally. Sun flames are the complete opposite of your personality, seeing as they require you to care greatly for others and wish to support them. Lightning would require the courage and willingness to be hurt for the sake of others and you are not destructive enough for the Storm flame."

_I'm glad not to be devious or destructive, but that description makes me more sad than happy._

"The reason for you possessing the Sky flames is because you possess insight. Hardly on the level of the Vongola hyper-intuition, and most of it is due to your obsessive habit of watching people and observing their actions, however some of it is from the innate talent that is essential to those bearing the Sky flame. You are also open-minded."

…_Do you have to make __**everything**__ sound like a bad thing?_

"The truth is that there were several other viable candidates who were a better fit to replace Sawada Tsunayoshi in terms of personality. I, myself, objected to you as your aloof nature has interfered with the natural charisma of your Sky Flames and resulted in you being a loner almost to the point of isolation. This coupled with your resulting poor social and communication skills would make it even more difficult to gather the Guardians and lead the Vongola. And lastly, your morbid and slightly bloodthirsty personality which you have managed to avoid showing due to your solitary nature could potentially cause Vongola to go down the path of bloodshed."

…

"That last bit is the least important as it is inconsequential to the fate of the world. However, I personally would prefer such a thing not to happen—it creates more paperwork. The main concern is you being able to gain the support of the Guardians and becoming Vongola Decimo, thus taking over the responsibility of the Vongola Rings and protecting the world as part of the Trinisette."

…

"In truth," Cheshire continued, ignoring my very flattened expression, "you are an anomaly which is very rarely seen even amongst the million worlds in this current multiverse. A Sky flame user with the personality of a Cloud. Acceptance and indifference. This should be impossible and by all standards, you should possess Cloud flames. However, your need for people who understand you, AKA _friends_, goes against its core value."

…

"This is also the reason for your lack of impact to the fate of your world." He added matter-of-factly, "Your contradicting characteristics would hinder your development into any person of consequence—In fact, you were slated to live a quiet life with a few close friends and die a quiet death with a funeral attended by only direct relatives and those same friends."

…_That was my ideal death but you make it sound so pathetic. _

"_However,_ the decision was made because out of the many other candidates, you are the only one who has read the Katekyo Hitman Reborn manga in enough detail to be able to have an idea of what should be done in order to assure the ideal progression."

…_Like that would make any difference to what actually __**happens.**__ If my personality is all wrong for it, then there's no way I could fake anything well enough to actually follow Tsuna's footsteps._

"Precisely my point," Cheshire agreed sourly, "However, there is actually no fixed route by which the Vongola Rings are to come under Sawada Tsunayoshi's protection, and thus as long as they _do_ end up in your possession, what actions you take are yours to make. History has shown that as long as you progress with the intention towards a certain end, it is most likely that you would achieve it."

_That doesn't actually __**help**__ my case. By telling any other soul that their goal is to become Vongola Decimo, would that not give them the "end" that they would strive towards?_

"That's actually too abstract a goal," he replied glumly, "you need to know the required 'achievements' in order to reach such a long-term one."

…_Do I?_

I had a feeling that he had rolled his eyes at me. "You've read the manga as fanatically as any otaku and I'm sure that you have some understanding of it beyond the surface—you _do_ bear the Sky Flame after all."

_With all your griping over my substandard "Sky" personality, I'd have thought that such a thing would be beyond me._ I thought dryly, ignoring the otaku remark.

"Oh for—are you so insecure that you need me to reassure you of your strengths? I _did_ say that you were one of the few who had the required concentration of Sky flames, did I not?"

I crossed my arms, _Concentration does not equate to purity. And if I'm not wrong, it is __**purity**__ that presides over the strength of a flame._

"…That is correct," came the exasperated reply, "Why can't mortals just accept things? Skepticism. Bah. Purity comes from resolve and resolve is not something necessarily accessible at all times. As in the case of Sawada Tsunayoshi himself. In addition, a higher purity may draw out more powers of a flame, however, that does not mean that they do not already exist."

…_So the amount of flame one has is predetermined by personality or compatibility—the 'wave energy' emitted, but its purity is based on circumstance…_

"One can train to increase the capacity of one's flames, however, that is essentially correct."

I shook my head to clear it and sighed gustily. It was a bad habit, getting angry when mystified, and while I usually kept myself in check, this was not a usual situation. Tapping my arm, I sorted through the information dump. The situation was unreal but I wasn't going anywhere (I batted at Cthulu determinedly) so I may as well find out as much as I could.

_So what is the deal? You mentioned a deal in the beginning, though you said that replacing Tsuna was compulsory._

"Basically, if you agree to strive towards the goal of becoming Vongola Decimo, we shall ease your departure from your world and sooth the souls of your loved ones."

My mouth fell open.

…_That's not a deal. That's a bloody lousy __**consolation**__ package…_

He muttered something about "insight" and "bloody focused female" and "told them it wouldn't throw her off enough", before clearing his throat, "the truth is… you don't really have a choice whether or not to do as told. There are higher powers at work here and matters of greater importance than your own individual fate."

"_However,_" he added hastily at the darkening look on my face, "we do sympathize with you and thus would like to ease your transition as much as possible and allow you to leave with as few regrets as possible."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "And… while you were not a figure of importance to the fate of the world, you had—_have_ the ability to create strong bonds with people who _were_. The friends you made in life will go on to become great and shape the future, and while you would never be in the limelight, you played a part in their growth."

This was becoming a little too close for comfort. There was too much (accurate!) introspection for this to be a normal dream and I was becoming _slightly_ concerned.

I looked down.

It was obvious that Cheshire was not used to giving out praise. He sounded as if he would rather swallow iron nails as he spoke, "While it is true that you are aloof, you give freely to the ones close to your heart. Your friends will possibly never be as great as they could have been with you by their side."

I continued to stare at my feet, though my lips quirked wryly.

Cheshire had made it sound as if my 'ability' had been something that came easily to me when in fact, it had been the opposite. In accordance to his description, I was a very reserved person and it was very difficult for me to strike up a conversation with anyone.

What friends I had made and kept were through painstaking effort and many _many_ repeated attempts despite great disappointment, embarrassment, pain and sadness. I had been stabbed in the back, abandoned in favor of popularity, made a fool of by pretenders… and of course, lost friends through diverging paths and lack of contact. It was _only_ through continued perseverance that I found the friends I could trust in.

_Of course_ I would not want to leave them behind.

As for my family… the way he had said it gave the impression of a distant one. It was the opposite. My _direct_ family was _extremely_ close to each other and always helped in times of need. It was something that was a given—we would never abandon one another and even if I had never made a single friend, I knew that I could always count on their support.

_**Of course**_ I would not want to leave them behind.

I cleared my throat again uncomfortably. Cheshire's voice had been serious…and in the _teeniest_ chance that this was real, I had to take it seriously as well. So I gave the 'deal' some serious thought.

I just hadn't realized how incensed I would be when I did.

It was completely unfair—me being displaced from my place in my world in order to fill a role that I had not even asked for. I had been happy. I had been content. And now I was being ripped from the niche I had carved out of blood and sweat to ensure a fate that I couldn't care less about.

_**And I didn't have a **__**fucking **__**choice**__**.**_

It was that that decided it for me really—or was it that the decision had already been made for me? There was nothing I could do and while I was still of the opinion that it was just a dream and I would wake up in my bed again, I wasn't going to waste time floundering. I ground my teeth.

"Okay." I took a deep breath, "_Okay._ Fine—you got me. I'll do it," I said, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "_**But**_," I thrust a finger in front of me, "you have to promise me—_swear it—_that my family and friends will be taken cared of—that even without me they will be the happiest they can be and live well. I don't give a damn if they can't be as 'great' as they possibly could without me. _Make them be. _I want a _**goddamn **__guarantee_."

That distant calm had all but dissipated. Cheshire had me pegged—I treasured the people I cared for and would do anything for them. _IF,_ for some kind of warped reason, _if_ this was real, and I truly _was_ going to be plucked out of my world and stuffed into another, I wasn't going to miss the chance to strike the bargain as much to my(their) favor as possible.

"Done," the answer came immediately—eagerly even. My anger abated slightly at the evidence of his sincerity. I hated that I paid such close attention to distinguish the nuances in his tone—he had not been the person behind my unfortunate situation, and he was truly sympathetic despite his less-than-amiable disposition. It was a lose-lose case for the both of us—him for getting the candidate he did not approve of, and me for being the candidate.

What a shitty hand fate had dealt the both of us. I was regretted it immediately, but I cursed Tsuna for dying.

My lips quirked up a little, but it was bitter. Fate couldn't save itself by preventing Tsuna's death, but it _could_ reach through millions of worlds to drag an unwilling replacement in order to.

What a fucking contradiction.

Sensing that that I had no more requests, Cheshire began to speak once more in a calmer tone, "We will be fitting you into the body of Sawada Tsunayoshi, age 5, and also provide you with the basic understanding of the Japanese language. One additional unintended boon you will gain is also the increase in purity of your flames." He carried before I opened my mouth, "It is true that resolve is one of the main factors of a Dying Will flame's purity, however, as the name of it implies, it is affected by Death. I am sure you can figure it out yourself, but here's a clue: it has to do with how it is triggered. That said, you can ponder it while you adjust."

Before I could get another word in edgewise, a sound like the sucking of a vacuum roared in my ears and the world spun.

* * *

**And there we have it. I'm not very happy with how cliche the entrance was, but that wasn't the main point anyway. Everyone wants to know what would happen if the main character were a little more astute, more tough, more badarsed. And well, compared to canon-Tsuna, I'm pretty sure anyone'd be a better person. But hey, can't blame the mangaka for wanting to have some character that needs development. **

**In any case, I'm putting something like myself in here, hence the titled SELF-insert instead of OC, but it'd probably be a juiced-up version since I'm never going to be able to describe myself in too flawed a manner. I'll avoid Mary-Sue judiciously, so hopefully things will go well. Another thing, writing a male character will be a _bitch_ to my brain. My very tired and overworked brain. Sigh. This will be more of a side to Adoption, unless I get more interested and then there may be a flip, but for now, Adoption is my baby. I wrote something like 5 chapters of this though, so my readers will have something to tide them over as I try to wrack my brains over the next chapter.**

**Enjoy~**

**Memory25**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here we have the second instalment. A little prettied up and dusted. Reminded me of all the ideas I had so I'm wondering if I'm going to start continuing it... Hmmm... Well, enjoy I guess.**

* * *

I woke up with a start, the feeling of falling bringing my heart to my mouth. Falling back against my pillow, I took in deep breaths.

"Tsu-kun! Daijoubu-desuka?!" A voice pierced through my daze as my heart jump-started yet again. _Geez, give me a break will you! I just had a nightmare!_

_Wait… what?_

I peered up in fear.

There, completely flustered and near hysterical, was Sawada Nana, mother of one Sawada Tsunayoshi. I absently noted that she was speaking Japanese, which I could understand.

I groaned and tried to bury myself under the covers.

_Ah fuck. So it wasn't a dream._

"Tsu-kun!" came that ear-piercingly insistent shriek laced with worry, "Are you alright? Please say something!"

…_That sounds rather serious._

I lifted my head again to look at her, noting the whitewashed walls and ceiling.

_Ah. Hospital. Right. Cheshire did say that Tsuna died right? Must have been some kind of accident._

"I'm fine Mama," I murmured softly, finding my throat to be as dry as it was in the 'dream'. I cleared it—painfully—when it looked like she was going to burst into tears, "can I have some water?"

…_Okay that was rather lame. She's worried sick about you and you ask for a drink? Seriously._

At that prick from my conscience, I gave her a wavering smile. She returned it with a watery one and quickly hurried out to fetch my request.

When she was out of sight, I sighed and rubbed my face. Looking around, I could see nothing of importance, just the bare layout of a standard hospital room. The window was closed and the air-conditioning was on, causing me to shiver slightly in the thin hospital gown I was in. There were no attached tubes or bandages, so I assumed that whatever had killed Tsuna had not been physically violent. I twiddled my toes and stretched my limbs. No pain so far… maybe a sickness?

…_Lame. Of all the things to die of… sickness at 5 years old? What kind of technology does this world have? I'm pretty sure that it was set in the modern times, not the medieval ages. And Tsuna sure as hell didn't have any life-threatening diseases in the manga._

"Here Tsu-kun!" A glass of water was eagerly thrust under my nose. I jerked back a little, but accepted it cautiously from Tsu—no—_my _mother.

Giving her another hopefully encouraging smile, I took small sips from the glass. When I was sufficiently watered, I turned back to her.

"What happened?" I widened my eyes cutely and tilted my head to ease the painful question, knowing how absolutely adorable Tsuna looked like that. I could tell Nana wanted to squeal but she settled on beaming at me in somewhat-delight.

"Well Tsu-kun," she began a little hesitantly, but sped up as if the words were spilling by themselves from her mouth, "You came home from school a week ago complaining about a stomachache, remember? I asked you what you ate and you said one of the teachers gave you candy so I thought it was just a small thing and gave you some medicine for it but then the next day you didn't get up from bed and then I brought you to the doctor and he said…" She sniffed, quavering and sobbing all of a sudden before wailing, "he said that the medicine was breaking down your stomach—some kind of allergic reaction—and that it was going into your blood and—_I_ _didn't understand—you've taken it before—_and that you were going to die and—_I'm so sorry Tsu-kun! Mama nearly killed you!_"

By the end, she was nearly incoherent and the cogs in my brain had begun turning suspiciously.

"Mama, do you know who the teacher was?" I asked, "I can't remember."

"She's that nice lady—Isono-san. You've always liked her and I've spoken to her as well. She even showed me the candy—there was nothing wrong with it, but she threw it away anyway after that. It was all Mama's fault! I'm so sorry Tsu-kun!"

"It's not your fault mama, you didn't know I was allergic." I absently patted her hand as I pondered this dilemma.

_There was no sign of any assassination attempts on Tsuna when he was younger, but that's mainly due to the manga starting when he's 15 so not much of his childhood is known… And he seemed a relatively normal, if somewhat under confident boy…_

"Did she say where she got it?" I questioned, wondering if I was being a tad too paranoid and allowing all that fanfiction to get to me.

Nana was surprisingly thorough, "She said she'd gotten it from a close friend who'd bought it from a specialty shop in Italy. I checked the brand and it's a really well-known one, so there shouldn't be anything wrong with it…"

She sniffed, "I know I was being suspicious, but I couldn't help it. After all those people you said kept approaching you and that one time you were kidnapped—thank goodness Iemitsu's colleague was there! I couldn't help it. I was so worried!"

"B-but" she wailed again, "it wasn't anything like that—Mama nearly killed Tsu-kun! It's all Mama's fault!"

…_Somehow I think Mama's suspicions are more valid than she thinks…though it's also reasonable that she'd get to that conclusion, she doesn't know about flames after all…_

And someone, I narrowed my eyes, had—possibly—come up with a clever enough plan to evade Tsuna's hyper-intuition. While Tsuna was only 5, he was still able to sense when someone with ulterior motives approached him, especially if they were to do him harm. By using a person whom he trusted to _unknowingly_ pass him the poison, it would stand to reason that even the vaunted Vongola bloodline would be fooled. In addition, while the poison had only given Tsuna a stomachache—and was probably not fatal as a result, it had been exacerbated by the medicine that Nana had given him, and why would Tsuna not take something from his own mother? Even hyper-intuition couldn't have predicted it. What a clever and sinister plan.

One that had actually succeeded.

"Mama?" I murmured, still a little hesitant about my suspicions, "Is Papa here?"

At that, something flickered in her eyes before she looked away. She smiled bravely, "Papa is busy at work, Tsu-kun. I called him and told him what had happened and he said he would come home as soon as possible. He's not here yet," she added hurriedly when I frowned, "but I'm sure he's on his way! He was very worried when he heard that!"

I smiled at her cutely, though beneath that, the beginnings of something dark bubbled, "Okay, Mama! I'll wait for Papa!"

"Arigato Tsu-kun!" She pinched my cheeks gently, still sniffing slightly, "Mama will go prepare something good for you to eat! The doctor said that you can't eat anything too acidic at the moment, but you can still eat solids—isn't that great!"

I beamed back, thankful I wouldn't be on a liquid diet. She giggled and, pressing a kiss to my forehead, left the room, glancing back a few times and waving cheerfully. I kept my lips up until she was out of sight.

The moment her back rounded the corner, my smile fell.

_Sawada Iemitsu._

Husband to Sawada Nana, Father of Sawada Tsunayoshi. Head of CEDEF and renowned as "The Young Lion of the Vongola". Direct descendent of Vongola Primo.

Hmph. I snorted in disgust as I amended my statement.

_Absent _Husband to Sawada Nana and _Neglectful_ Father of Sawada Tsunayoshi.

I had never despised a character more than I despised Sawada Iemitsu. He may be the famed head of CEDEF, the 2nd most powerful person in Vongola, but he was a _shitty_ parent and spouse. Marrying a woman and deserting her for years. _Fathering_ a son and not being there for him. At least _half_ the damage caused to Tsuna's confidence could be laid at his feet. No—_more _than that!

How could a boy ever learn firmness and to stand his ground if his father wasn't there to teach him? Nana, the epitome of a Yamato Nadeshiko, could only teach womanly values. Things like kindness and compassion. Things like enduring instead of fighting back. Things like forgiving again and again and _again and __**again.**_ For how else would she have stayed with Iemitsu?

I sighed and unclenched my fist.

Of course, he had responsibilities to Vongola, _but_ if he had decided to start a family, shouldn't he be prepared to take care of it? It was… everything that went against my family values. _Family was __**everything**_. You could be betrayed by all the friends you have, you could be turned against by everyone you knew, but _family_, **not famiglia, **would never desert you.

Though it seems… Tsuna's already had.

Recalling how, in the manga, Nana would talk down to Tsuna, referring to him as "dame-Tsuna"—imagine, your own _mother_ calling you useless!—and having no expectations of him… I couldn't stand it. It was abominable. It was abhorrent. It made me want to scream at her and take her by the shoulders and shake until she could see sense. _How_, _how could you give up on your own child?!_

Though now, I recalled the worry in her eyes and her near-hysterical actions and tried to sympathize with her.

A husband who was never there for her. (I snorted as I recalled Fuuta's ranking about them being the most loving couple)

A son who kept failing.

I pondered her views as I dug through my memories. As if on cue, they floated to my mind.

Sawada Nana had been 34 when the manga had started… And Tsuna had been 13. So… she had married Iemitsu around the age of 20 and had Tsuna immediately after. She was, I realized as I added up the numbers, only 26 at the moment.

She was so _young._

It wasn't as if she didn't love her son—it was obvious that she did even through all the disparaging remarks. It was simply that everything kept failing her. Her husband, and now, her son.

It had to hurt, I thought, hearing everyone calling her son useless and being unable to defend him. And Iemitsu had never been around to help. And as Tsuna kept proving everyone right, her disappointment got more and more apparent, until she probably gave up. It was too much to expect from a young woman, barely an adult when she first got married.

As I turned over my findings in her mind, I felt as if I had discovered a side to Tsuna's life I hadn't realized. Or was it that I had known all along?

Iemitsu… Iemitsu had been 38, 4 years older than Nana. So… he was 30 at the moment. Certainly much more experienced in life than her. Certainly old enough to know what he had been getting into, and what kind of responsibilities he was taking on. And didn't near-death experience, or whatever mafia life included, also helped a person mature earlier?

So… therein lay the problem. Or rather, the blame.

I sighed again, then shook my head.

This wasn't my business, nor did I care to make it. My job was just to replace Tsuna as Vongola Decimo—there was no condition about his family life. In my opinion, I had only _one_ family, and that was lost to me forever. There was nothing I could do about it, I had accepted the deal. They would be well cared for—I just needed to play my part.

Nodding decisively, I laid back, closed my eyes and fell asleep immediately.

xXXx

It took quite a bit of patience, but at last, a week later, I was discharged from the hospital. I noticed that the bills had not been shown to Nana, and that she had not expected them to be.

Unfortunately, her joy at my recovery was shadowed by her disappointment at Iemitsu's broken promise. Indeed, he had not come to visit—there hadn't even been a call. He must have been alerted to my recovery, but _Nana_ didn't know that. Neither would Tsuna, come to think of it.

I rolled my eyes at his stupidity.

xXXx

It was a little strange, being in a male's body. Not that there was any discomfort or anything—it fit me like a glove. However, whenever I stepped out of the shower and stared at the mirror, I would be reminded that it wasn't my body. It took a few days—a surprisingly short amount of time—for me to get used to seeing Tsuna's—_my _image.

Nana chalked it up to my 'accident'.

It was a few more days before I was allowed to return to the kindergarten. It didn't help that I was rather tensed and jumpy. By that time, news had spread of my 'accident' and whispers followed me everywhere when I entered the class.

Don't underestimate children, even 5 year olds gossip. In fact, they're even worse in that they haven't learnt tact yet.

"Tuna-kun! I heard that you went to the hospital and nearly died! Is it true?" A pretty little girl questioned sweetly, after racing towards me at breakneck speed and then nearly running me over.

"Erm…" I stalled, rather taken aback, "I guess so. I don't know what happened and I don't really remember but that's what the doctor said."

Gasping dramatically, she grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her friends, who had been standing in the sidelines trying to eavesdrop. "It's true!" She announced to her wide-eyed friends, who oohed and ahhed over me and kept asking whether it had been scary and if it had hurt and if I got an _injunction._

I smiled and tried my best to answer them with what I could guess of Tsuna's feelings. _Yes I was scared. Yeah it hurt. I didn't get an injection._

However, I just wanted them to leave me _alone_. I was reserved at my most social, and I definitely wasn't feeling sociable at the moment. Unfortunately, they insisted on gluing themselves to me, even going so far as to crowd my table during drawing time. It made me even more unsettled and twitchy. Which in turn made me irritable.

Bah.

"Watcha drawin', Tsuna-kun?" a girl peered over my shoulder as I picked up a black crayon. I wasn't a whiz at drawing, but compared to pre-schoolers, I suppose it was pretty decent.

"Bird." I grunted, trying to picture what Hibird looked like. All I got was a yellow ball of fluff with 2 beady eyes, but I suppose that was enough. I picked up the yellow crayon to color but it was snatched away by a boy.

Obviously he was picking a fight, as he was glaring fit to set me on fire. I had no idea what he had against me—I didn't even know his name—so I gave him a blank look and picked up the orange one instead.

He missed my fingers by a little on the second attempt.

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I went back to coloring Hibird.

"Ooooh!" The girl over my shoulder squealed into my ear, "Tat's pretty!"

Wincing a little, I muttered a "thank you" and resumed coloring. Only to sigh as the crayon was jerked out of my hand.

This time I did roll my eyes.

Hibird was orange from the waist down by now so using another color wouldn't look too awful, though I gave a mental apology to Hibari for making his bird orange and… I looked at the new crayon in my hand and cringed, pink.

Unfortunately, Shoulder Girl had decided to rally in my defense, as did all the other girls who still surrounded me.

"Heeeeyyyy!" Piercing shrieks rang out, "Give Tuna-kun back his crayon!"

The brat looked startled, but retorted, "It's not his!"

Apparently, that was the wrong answer, as all of them stood up and began to bristle in indignation. Only _then_ did I get an idea of the wrath he had invoked. Subtly, I squeezed my hands over my ears as 10 shrill voices started to scream in _unison_.

What was one little brat to do when faced with a whole platoon of harpies?

He broke under the pressure and cried.

"Waaah! Waaah!"

Brat was a violent tantrum thrower. He kicked and bawled on the ground, scaring other children into crying too. In a fit of pique, he chucked crayons at me, hitting a few of the girls. They, in turn, shrieked, inciting the rest to wail in sympathy.

"What is going on here?!" a teacher ran over in shock.

"Waah! Waaaah! WAAAAAHHH!"

As expected, nothing could be understood from the pandemonium. Being in the center of it, I was getting a splitting headache from the noise and my ears were ringing despite being covered. Anymore was likely to drive me to either insanity or violence.

I lurched to my feet and stumbled outside.

The teacher found me much later, sitting under a tree and enjoying some peace from that traumatizing incident. Unfortunately, this meant that I had not been available to defend myself when Brat spun some tale that put the blame squarely on my shoulders.

It also didn't help that I had slipped out during the chaos—not only did I look guilty, but the girls were unhappy that I had abandoned them and thus didn't defend me when Brat brought his fake story to the teachers.

I nearly sighed.

Just what I needed. Schoolyard drama.

Even worse—the parents had been called in.

I resisted the urge to pinch my nose bridge.

Brat's parents obviously spoilt him rotten. They wouldn't allow me to speak my piece, staunchly maintaining that their sweet child would _never _have provoked or—horror of horrors—_hit _another person and declaring that I was an uncouth hellion who was obviously not being disciplined properly.

When they saw my nonchalant expression—_obviously an out of control and ill-mannered child_—they switched targets to Nana.

"Can't you control your own child? And where's the father? He should be taking responsibility for this! How can you let your child run wild and bully my boy like that! Don't you know how to discipline a child? Hmph!"

By then, Nana was pale from shock. Both parents were older than her by a few years and much more confident, though the deciding factor was possibly the fact that _both _of them were present. While the man didn't speak much, he stood solidly behind his wife, exuding support and confidence as she poured scorn and withering remarks.

_People like that couldn't be reasoned with—it was best to ignore them._ I wanted to share with Nana. _Best to ignore them and not let their words affect you._

It was apparent that she had never experienced such a thing. It made me wonder briefly about her history.

I eyed the scene in front of me and suppressed my sigh. I had more pressing concerns—the potential assassination for one.

This bit of childhood drama was none of my business.

* * *

**So... not too bad I guess? This isn't a cheerful fic, though, so beware. You're going to wangst together with me!**

**Memory25**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another update today. Another chapter before I'm done and then I'll have to see if I want to continue. Probably. Don't expect regular updates for this though, I don't have any concrete plans for this yet.**

* * *

It had taken me a month to become adjusted to living as Sawada Tsunayoshi—I had even begun answering to "Tsu-kun" and "Tsuna". Nana was gentle and cheerful and probably the epitome of a loving mother. Well, the epitome of a loving mother you usually saw on TV. Just without the drama, and a lot more boring. And _sappy _in the way that should never be allowed in real life.

She would never be _my_ mother, but I felt a sense of fondness for her. Perhaps in time, I would see her as family.

Sadly, despite efforts otherwise, I had _still_ ended up with the name 'dame-Tsuna'. Although this time, it had nothing to do with any ineptitude on my part.

It had been coined by Brat and picked up by the flock of offended harpies, who then spread it to the rest of the class like a disease. I _knew _I should have punched him when he returned the next day chirping about my 'no-good father' who was always not around.

Damn those gossipy parents.

Nana didn't know the story behind it, and so was disappointed but not saddened. And I endeavored to keep it that way.

At least the teachers never picked it up.

Every day was utterly boring. I had been 'gifted' with basic Japanese and so, found the only class that would have been interesting, tedious. I had read every book in the 'library' at least twice. The only new thing was the children songs that we got to sing, but even those were quickly memorized. And it wasn't like I woke up in the morning everyday prepared to chirp about a _frog._ School was, completely and utterly, _boring. _

Oh, and not to forget the irritating schoolyard politics that were played out in our class of forty. Even at five the children had separated into the cool, the geeky, the popular and the outcast.

I had pissed off the top echelon.

Brat was rather good in sports and considerably larger in size than most of us. I blame that on whatever his snobbish parents stuffed into that black hole of his.

The flock of harpies were the prettiest girls with the richest daddies.

I was the teeny runt with the mother who had proven unable to withstand an onslaught of insults and the absent father.

There wasn't much to figure out after that.

To recover his manly pride, or reassert his dominance, or whatever it was that he had lost, Brat had decided to target me. It started with small insults which grew into a speech about whatever drivel he had heard from his parents about mine. I'm pretty sure that even Tsuna would have flown at him in a rage at the crap he spouted.

Luckily for him, I could tell he didn't know half of what he said. He was simply quoting whatever he had heard ad verbatim. That and I couldn't be bothered to defend Iemitsu's honor. There wasn't much about Nana simply because she was present and everyone (AKA the _other_ neighbours) knew what a wonderful, picture-perfect, Yamato Nadeshiko poster-worthy person she was.

When that didn't work, he finally resorted to violence.

It started out small—just bumps when returning to class and the occasional leg stuck out to trip me. And even then I was usually quick enough to dodge—whoever said clumsiness was a mostly physical trait was wrong. But then it gradually turned into elbowing and pushing until it turned into outright hitting.

Seriously, I should have put a stop to it before it got that far. I had forgotten all the rules of the sandbox. To be fair, I had been _twenty _when I was 'transferred'. By not retaliating every time Brat and his growing group of cronies picked on me, I was encouraging them and giving them a nice, convenient punching bag. It didn't hurt that I refused to tattle.

Nana fussed, but thought it was part of being a boy. Heck, _I _thought it was part of being a boy.

The girls took the more insidious, but actually more tolerable path, preferring snide comments and cold shoulders and hoarding all the crayons when drawing. The rest of the class who didn't follow Brat's lead followed theirs and I ended up alone—not that I was complaining.

Of course, eventually things had to come to a head.

"Oi dame-Tsuna! I want that! Give it here!" Brat announced, smirking widely as his gang surrounded me.

He was pointing at the black crayon in my hand.

I gritted my teeth. For all my disinterest in such childish actions, as well as patience I had drawn from some well I didn't know I had—I wasn't Tsuna.

I wasn't forgiving. I wasn't kind. I wasn't afraid to fight and to _hell_ with it—just because I hadn't wanted to pick on a child did _not _mean I would let him push me around!

"No." I glared at him, returning to my drawing of Natsu.

He gawked, stunned.

Pity he couldn't have remained gawking until school was over. I dodged his outstretched arms, leaving him to flail before kissing the floor.

Another moment of shock passed before he scrambled up and signaled the beginning of the battle.

"GET HIM!"

It took a moment of processing—they were just kids after all—before I was tackled to the floor. I thrust my elbow to the side, eliciting a howl of pain, punched someone in the face and stomped on fingers.

Obviously, I didn't escape unscathed: someone had clipped my eye and another had gotten me between my shoulders. However, I _did_ scare the rest enough to flee, abandoning my three victims, who rolled and groaned on the ground, and me, huffing and wheezing and triumphantly clutching my black crayon.

I gleefully noted that I had gotten Brat himself.

"What on earth is this!" the same male teacher who had presided over the parent-meeting the first day was back. His eyes took in the scene and he barked at me, "You again! You can't stop getting into trouble, can you!"

I was beginning to doubt the teachers here had eyes. _Seriously? __**I'm**__ the one at fault?_

"I'm calling your parents again!"

As he left, I glared at his back, resolving to defend myself this time.

xXXx

All of us were gathered in the conference room. Brat hadn't said anything, still nursing his aching fingers as his parents cooed over him. They both glared at me every chance they got, and the teacher too, frowned in disapproval.

Well, screw them. It wasn't my fault and no way was I letting them fob the blame on me again.

A chime indicated that Nana had arrived. I immediately opened my mouth to begin my defense.

I never got the chance.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Nana cried the moment she entered. I stared in shock as she bowed and apologized.

_What was she doing?! _

I couldn't wrap my head around it and simply stood tongue-tied as Brat's mother launched into a tirade, again bringing up Iemitsu's absence and Nana's youth.

_What was going on?!_

My mother had never been one to take such abuse. Even when I had been in the wrong, she would still defend me if things got too far. Discipline was important, but family more so. She would punish me _in private, _but there was no way she would allow outsiders to rag at me. After all, who else did any kid have to rely on if not their parents? It'd _destroy _their self-confidence!

It was the beginnings of an inkling of an idea. One that I shoved to the back of my mind in favor of the present situation.

Even if she wasn't defending me, how could Nana stand to hear someone speak to her in that manner? And Iemitsu's absence had _nothing_ to do with this at all!

_I just—I don't even… How can anyone just let another person insult her like that?!_

I was still trying to figure out what had just happened when I was pulled gently in front of a tight-lipped Nana. I looked up at her.

"Tsu-kun, please apologize to Mugi-kun."

_What?!_

I stared at the brat who had the nerve to look wounded.

I looked around at disapproving faces. It was apparent that nobody, not even Nana, believed that I was innocent.

I was alone.

"Tsu-kun!" Nana gripped my shoulders a little, her eyes pleading. She looked as if she were about to cry. I wanted to snap at her to listen to my side of the story, but she kept shaking me and telling me to apologize.

I wasn't naïve enough to think that I could still get anyone to believe me. In their eyes, I had already been condemned.

Clenching my fists, I grounded the words out. I tried to look anywhere but that smug git's face.

"Hmph." It was obvious that 'Mugi-kun's' mother was unimpressed, but I couldn't have cared less. It was with ice in my chest that I trudged home with Nana, hand in hand.

xXXx

It wasn't over when we returned home. In fact, the worst part had yet to come. The moment Nana closed the door she slumped into a chair and burst into tears.

Alarmed and at least somewhat concerned enough to forget the momentary betrayal, I tugged on her sleeve. She turned and gave me a hug that was more smothering than gentle. I felt as if _I_ was the one doing the comforting. She sobbed into my shoulder for a while before speaking.

"Tsu-kun, promise Mama that you'll stop fighting! I don't want you to keep getting hurt when you come home and I don't want you to become a bully!"

_What?!_

I stiffened in indignation.

_**I**__ was the bully?!_

But then Nana lifted her teary face to me and all protests died on my lips. Her lips trembled and her eyes were puffy and red. I could see shadows under her eyes. She was sad and weary and stressed out.

The least I could do was help to elevate her worries, I guessed. She _was,_ after all, the person who was caring for me. And it wasn't as if she _didn't _care _about _me.

Sniffing, she continued, "I don't want to see you coming home every day with so many bruises! I know that boys fight, but you shouldn't pick on others! I don't want you to grow up into a person who likes to hurt others!"

It was only then that I realized how things must have seemed to her.

I suppressed a sigh and swallowed that indignation. It felt like swallowing lead, like crumpling up my self-esteem and throwing it away, but I did it. She was worried about me and her concern, while misplaced, was well-meant. I supposed I could take a little childish abuse for her. Regardless of physical appearance, I was an _adult. _I would not make the mistake of allowing myself the luxury of a second childhood again.

It was probably why Fate had found a grown-up to take Tsuna's place anyway.

Looking up at her, I promised, "I won't fight anymore."

I really shouldn't have done that.

xXXx

It was only a matter of time before Mugi-bastard and his merry gang of juvenile delinquents who thought they were hot shit discovered that I was back to not retaliating. They had tiptoed around me for the next few days, wary and a little afraid, but they _just couldn't_ resist their favorite target.

I should have glared at them and/or scared them the first time they tested the waters, but alas, I simply reverted to ignoring, which emboldened them until I was returning home every day with bruises again.

When I did, Nana accused me of breaking my promise. Perhaps it was the 'precedent' that had been set, or she simply didn't trust me, but she didn't believe my words.

I wanted to scream at her then, _Why can you believe your husband's lies every single time but not your own son?!_

Every day I returned to a disappointed sigh and sad glances. It was sickening.

I missed my old life, and I wanted _my_ mother who would stand up for me and always believe in me before others. I wanted _my_ father who was always home every day and while not the most vocal parent, would still show affection once in a while. I wanted _my_ _friends_ who would always support me and stand by my side.

But that life was gone forever, and so I had to bite the bullet and deal with what I had now.

It wasn't always terrible—Nana was endlessly kind and patient and loving. She would tuck me in bed and read me stories, things my own mother had never done. She would bake cookies with me and sing and dance to tunes on the radio. Sometimes it was like living in one of those cliché-ly perfect homes.

How could I not come to care for her?

Her disappointment began to prick and so I tried not to get hit, often dodging and running away or even climbing trees in order to avoid Mugi and company.

On days I succeeded, she would beam at me warmly and praise her wonderful "Tsu-kun". It was, honestly, a pittance for the _shit_ I went through, but I took it as a challenge. She wouldn't believe that I could keep a promise? I'd _show _her.

Sometimes I would feel disgusted at myself for running. Sometimes I would feel weariness pierce me into the bone at the bullying, the sniping and the disapproval. It was hard enough worrying over potential assassination attempts and the future I had to look forward to, but this? I bet the _world _that Tsuna's childhood hadn't sucked as much as this one did. Yay for changes in pre-plot history.

But still, I kept my promise not to fight.

xXXx

A year later, I turned 6 and headed to Elementary school. There had been no assassination attempts, no strange people approaching with ulterior motives, no 'candy' incidences. Security must have been tightened after that successful attempt, I reckoned. So I relaxed my guard and allowed myself to stop worrying over something the 'adults' had most likely taken care of.

Instead, I turned my thoughts to the normal things. It was somewhat of a relief. I didn't want to become a paranoid bastard before I reached double digits.

I was hoping for a fresh start and possibly the opportunity to make friends. While I was not the most social creature, I did have times when I wished for companionship. Being alone all the time meant that more often than not, I had no one to snap me out of my increasingly morose thoughts.

Mugi had entered another school and most of his gang had followed so that was the last of _that_. No more running, no more hiding and no more sighs and tears.

Or so I thought.

Either my luck was crap or Tsuna's was and it had transferred to me. Or _both _of us had been screwed on the Karmic scale and the universe was out to get us.

Because somehow, one of Mugi's cronies—Kei-something-or-other—had ended up in the same class and recognized me. He was the _only _one from Mugi's gang who entered the Namimori Elementary and lo and behold, we shared the same class. To my eternal frustration, he picked the _perfect _time to call out 'dame-Tsuna!'—right in the middle of class during roll call. _Every single one _of my new classmates picked it up.

Apparently, it was just _unnaturally_ catchy. Even though it was _completely_ unwarranted.

I was actually passing _all_ my tests. Not fantastically, seeing as I wasn't used to writing in Japanese—I had to think in English and translate it—but decent enough that 'dame-Tsuna' definitely didn't fit the bill. Some of the teachers actually _liked_ me, especially in Math where I could use my full knowledge without puzzling over Kanji or Katakana.

But _still,_ the goddamned nick-name persisted.

To make things worse, the bullying started again.

I totally blame the nick-name. It simply screamed "bully me" in big bold letters. With neon lights and sparkles and shit hovering right over my head where everyone could see it. And Kei-whatever must have spread the word that I didn't fight back as well.

And like bees to honey, _every single_ tough guy who thought he was hot shit flocked over, eager to get their hits in.

They just hadn't grown up enough not to enjoy beating the shit out of a non-retaliating person. I was seriously losing my faith in humanity.

Oh, there were others who didn't join in, who tried to be nice to me when the bullies weren't looking, but by then I was on almost every single asshat's hitlist. I couldn't blame them, but I sure as hell wanted to call them out on their cowardice.

Obviously, the girls avoided me too. Nobody wanted to be grouped with 'dame-Tsuna' or be the next target.

So.

Elementary school.

Fresh start.

_Bah_.

That beginning of an inkling of an idea I had? Yeah, it kind of grew into something like a big black mass of certainty.

xXXx

It was in the 2nd year of Elementary school when I first saw Yamamoto.

Saw as in at a distance, and not one-on-one meeting.

I was surprised, and yet I wasn't. The manga had really depicted him accurately. He was genuinely friendly and helpful to _everybody_ and there was such a _sincere_ aura around him that you couldn't help but like him. It didn't help that he was tall and handsome in that simple, _aww-shucks_-boy-next-door manner.

People flocked to him in droves, attracted to that honesty. I theorized that opposites did indeed attract, and that was why Yamamoto was most often surrounded—to my amusement—by the _least_ honest students. It cracked me up, how such a nice guy could be hanging around what I knew were the most douche-y, shifty, and all-around asshole-y people. The type that _described _two-faced.

Another thing, he was _already_ a baseball maniac. I have no idea how he got into it, but it seemed he had been glued to that baseball bat since, _forever. _Said baseball bat was always close by, in its bag across his back, in his hands, propped against his hip… and sometimes he would suddenly decide to do practice swings in the middle of whatever he was doing. To the detriment of his growing crowd of followers.

With his growing skill, everyone foresaw a career on the field for him.

Even I couldn't believe that he would _ever_ give up on his beloved sport.

Watching him was intriguing. Like watching a documentary of the development of some kind of rare creature. He was outrageously popular, and probably the first 7 year old to receive Valentines' Day chocolates. He was naïve in ways I could never remember being, pure and straightforward and kind in ways only babies were.

Sometimes I debated approaching him earlier. Befriending him and progressing the plot faster. Gathering the so-called Rain Guardian beforehand to save me the trouble of jumping almost-naked off a building.

But I looked at that crowd, at that seething mob of liars, and swore that I would die again before joining them.

xXXx

We met when I was evading yet another gang of idiots who had spotted me eating lunch under a tree and decided that they wanted an extra snack. It was truly the first time someone had come gunning for my food, but there was _no way _I was surrendering Nana's cooking. Seriously, those asshats didn't deserve to so much as _sniff _it.

By then, I had perfected the art of running. It took me a quick feint before I was zipping away from the hollering group, lunchbox tucked safely under my arm.

I had nearly gotten away when I suddenly found myself nose to chest with none other than the famed baseball idol and almost overturned my precious meal in his face. Before I could blink, a hand shot out to steady me and another caught my flying teriyaki chicken with egg omelet and bonito sprinkles without a single grain of rice tipping out.

"Haha, careful!" That well-known yet unfamiliar voice rang out.

I looked up to sparkling white teeth and a laughing face. It was evidence to the power of Yamamoto's smile that I couldn't help returning it, despite my disgruntling situation.

"Ha! Got you, dame-Tsuna!" Came a yell that made my smile slip off instantly. I made to pull away, but the hand on my shoulder simply tightened.

_What the hell?! Can't you see that I'm trying to escape?!_

"Why don't you—Yamamoto!" The goon in the lead sputtered to a halt. He traded looks with the rest.

"Haha! Hi Takamori! Are you playing catch?" Yamamoto chuckled.

_Like hell we are._

"Er.. yes!" Baka-mori replied, nodding rapidly, "That's right! Dame-Tsuna's running!"

_Even a monkey would see through something like that._

"I thought there should only be one catcher?" the note of confusion in his voice was apparent.

_Scratch that, this monkey is an exception. He's been baseball brainwashed._

"Er…" Again they traded glances.

"Haha! I know! Why don't you run and Tsuna chase!" Yamamoto beamed. I liked him immediately at the lack of that deplorable nickname.

Without much choice, the goon squad agreed and began to 'run away'.

_Good Riddance._

I retrieved my lunch and settled down to eat. Only to jerk at the face right in front of me. The sparkling white teeth mesmerized me before I shook off its hypnotic effects.

"Why aren't you chasing them, Tsuna?"

I gave him a look. _You can't be serious…_

The innocent face I received was akin to a cherub's. Even babies would be hard-pressed to challenge its sheer _naiveté. _I suppressed the urge to facepalm. The manga _really had_ depicted him accurately.

"I never wanted to play with them, Yamamoto-kun." I muttered as I dug into my food, savoring the sweet egg omelet that only Okaa-san ever got just the way I liked.

"Why not?" He sat opposite me, cross-legged. I reined in a snide remark of dirtying his pants and firmly reminded myself that this was the one kid who didn't deserve my snark.

Instead, I occupied myself with chewing some chicken before replying blandly, "Because they wanted to eat my bento."

"But…" he screwed his eyes up in concentration, "did they not eat lunch?"

He looked so adorable that I just _had_ to ruffle his hair. The best part was how he just sat there and allowed me. He was like a big puppy—even his confused expression was cute!

"No, they did. They just wanted to eat mine too." I said as simply as I could, remembering that we were only 7 at the moment. Geez, time passes slowly. I couldn't wait for Elementary school to be over, it was turning out just like kindergarten.

There was another moment of thinking that was starting to look painful before, "Why didn't you share it with them?"

I gave him a deadpanned look that probably didn't go too well with my cute features, "Because we're not friends. And it's my lunch. I'd go hungry if they ate it."

"B-but," the giant puppy turned astonished eyes on me, "That's _mean."_

My expression didn't change. Maybe some people preferred to protect that innocence, but there was only so much innocence and seeing-the-good-side-of-people one could have before it turned into delusion and eventually something more similar to Battered Wife Syndrome. "They _are _mean."

"Haha! But Tsuna, Takamori isn't mean! He's really nice!" Oh wow, that earnest expression was cute too!

I stilled my twitching fingers and snorted, "Yamamoto-kun, just because Baka-mori is nice to you doesn't mean he's nice to everyone. You should open your eyes and look carefully at how people act when they don't notice you."

The moment I spoke, I regretted it. Or perhaps it was more chagrin than regret. The words had come out more bitterly than I intended.

I didn't need to involve such a kind boy with my troubles. At least, not _yet. _And certainly not _these _types of troubles.

"Ehhh…"

I decided it was best to leave before I blurted out something again. I finished my lunch and stood up, allowing myself the luxury of ruffling his hair again, "Thanks for helping me save my lunch. See you around."

"Ehhh…?"

I don't know what kind of impact that talk had on Yamamoto, or whether or not there _had_ been an impact, but we didn't meet each other again. And every time I saw him he was surrounded by 'friends' and laughing happily, so I didn't bother him.

_Sigh…_

_Four more years…_

* * *

**So here we go, another chapter of crappy childhood and personality-shaping events. Some emo and angst and drama and lots of sarcasm sprinkled everywhere because Tsu-me is _not _amused. Short end of the deal really means _short end of the deal. _Well damn, I hate feeling sorry for myself. And Tsu-me really deserves a pity-party, poor female-turned-male sod.**

**Doesn't mean I'll stop screwing with Tsu-me's life. I'm evil like that.**

**Memory25**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, not a very long chapter and I tried to lengthen it while fixing up, but sorry. No go. It didn't want to. **

**And yeah, those who haven't read my profile, I'm having mid-terms and dying from studying. It'll be over next week, but until then, I'm AWOL. And after that, I'm taking some time off to refresh.**

* * *

"Tsu-kun! Great news!"

Coming home to an exuberant Oka-san was always nice, though it could be over the smallest things. Not that I was complaining, it was better than despondent sighs and looks.

"What is it?" I asked cheerfully, happy that she was happy.

"Papa's coming back home!" She declared, nearly dancing in excitement.

The opposite was true of me, who felt a stone drop into my stomach.

I eyed Okaa-san warily. It wasn't often that Iemitsu came by to visit and he always had to rush off to 'work' at the worst times, leaving her with dimmer smiles and disappointed sighs. (I still don't know how the hell Fuuta got that ranking. When he comes over I'm going to ask him to redo it!)

I tolerated the sappiness that pervaded the air when he was around, as well as the laziness, the beer bottles, the sudden 'manly pats' that made me wheeze and the teasing 'dame-Tsuna's (yes, he had heard of it too) for her sake, but I was no saint. Even original-Tsuna had shown that he despised his father, though it probably wasn't to the extent I did.

I tried to be, if not as forgiving as Okaa-san, then as forgiving as the original—I really did. But 'forgiveness' was not something that came up in my vocabulary often. In this aspect, I truly respected original-Tsuna.

Another was his seemingly absence of temper. And inability to carry a grudge.

When you reach the age of twenty, you learn a few things about the world. Like how it really doesn't revolve around you for one. People could give less of a crap about you and the only people you could count on _always _was family. And friends. Good ones.

But that was beside the point. Once you learn something like that, you also learn to tolerate all the shit you get. Because nobody cares and really, everyone is dealing with the same shit so you're no worse off.

I'd learn to do that to the point I even managed to find some small piece of happiness in the rubble.

But.

Iemitsu's behavior irked me more than I thought.

I told myself: He's still keeping tabs on us, so he really _really _actually cares. We don't see him, but he always has his eye on us. He probably took care of the assassination stuff and stayed away so that we don't come up on someone's hostage/revenge-kill list.

Or something.

So.

I should probably, probably cut him some slack. I mean, he really does care and well, he's just awkward because he doesn't really know how to talk with his son.

Right? Right.

…Right.

Right!

_Right._

_..._

After a series of mental debates and decisions of tolerance and forgiveness, (the arguments that he didn't _need _forgiveness died early deaths) I gave up. I just _couldn't _forgive this guy. This man, who was supposedly oh-so powerful and strong, 2nd in Vongola to only Vongola Nono himself, called the 'Young Lion of Vongola' and head of CEDEF.

And he couldn't even _fucking call?!_

He doesn't even say _goodbye _when he leaves. Just up and disappears the next day and leaves me with a watery-eyed Nana in the morning. And depression and weepiness and cooking-somen-because-I-forgot-to-get-groceries for a whole. Fucking. _Week. _Sometimes _two. _

What. The. Fuck.

And then a few months later he pops up again and the whole _damn _thing starts over. Like a sad, pathetic video stuck in the VCR on replay. Again and again and again and _again. _

I wanted to _scream. _

_But. _

I took in a deep breath.

For her sake.

"That's great!" I chirped, grinning from ear to ear. Hurriedly, I stepped away, slinging my bag that had fallen to the floor on my shoulder, "I'm going to go take a shower first, kay?"

"Of course, Tsu-kun!" She cooed back, obviously on cloud nine, "I'm going to prepare something good tonight!"

"Great!" I repeated, making sure that my lips were still quirked upwards while I faced her. Despite my best efforts, fake smiles usually slipped off too quickly.

I spun and ran up the stairs.

xXXx

Did I say that I despise Iemitsu? I meant that I wish to cover him in wounds so that I could merrily tip a vat of vinegar over him and push him into a hole filled with maggots.

"Bahaha! How's my little Tsu-kun~~~" Iemitsu bellowed in my ear as he scooped me into his arms and swung me up and down. My face, which I had been stiffly holding in a smile for Nana, lost the fight and deadpanned.

"C'mon, Tsu-Tsu! Smile for Daddy~~~" He grinned, still holding me—rather uncomfortably—in his arms.

I raised an eyebrow. The grin faltered before regaining its megawatt strength.

In all honesty, we both knew what was going on. The first time Iemitsu returned from 'work' was two months after the 'incident'. He had swung in, beaming from ear to ear, clothes muddied up for Nana to wash to adhere to his 'oil rig' story.

And then he had took one look at me and blinked.

Call him whatever, but there was no denying that he was as sharp as a knife. He knew, without even speaking, that his son had changed.

Of course, he still thought I was original-Tsuna—soul transference wasn't exactly _normal _(Estraneo Possession Bullet notwithstanding)_, _even for KHR—but he knew that I wasn't the son he had known. I hadn't been pretending to be, but he had seen the change in one glance.

A look flashed across his face before he once again donned the mask of a lazy ass, no-good father.

I didn't care enough to ponder what it was then—it could have been regret or sorrow or guilt. I still don't give a damn. He has _no excuses_.

He is a _shitty_ father.

I adopted a bored look as he tried to 'bond' with me. I didn't reject him outright because Okaa-san would probably cry, but that didn't mean that I had to cooperate. He eyed me in frustration as he failed, for the umpteenth time, to coax a word or even a smile from me. Thankfully, the doorbell rang.

I straightened. I knew who it was. He had visited several times before.

Nana opened the door, greeting the elderly man standing there merrily, "Timoteo-san! Please come in!"

Now _this _was a guest I could be genuinely nice to. He may be the boss of the Vongola family—and my granduncle-twice-removed or something—but his kindness was real, his intentions of visiting me were real, and his _worry_ for me was real. He saw me as nothing but a helpless child—he had absolutely _no_ intentions of me ever becoming Vongola Decimo. He wanted _nothing_ of that life for me.

Of course, his sons were still alive at the moment.

But, as far as intents went, Timoteo far outstripped Iemitsu.

Iemitsu, on the other hand, obviously harbored ambitions for me. If not as Vongola Decimo, then possibly as his successor to CEDEF. He was always telling me to 'be manly like Papa' or 'get stronger', pointing out my nickname in disappointment and saying I had to be 'the man of the house' while he was gone. And he kept asking me what I wanted to be in the future.

_Right, like that isn't as obvious as a punch to the face._

…Okay, maybe I was taking offense at every single word he said because of my intense dislike, but he didn't help by calling me 'dame-Tsuna' every time he wanted to point out my apparent wimpiness. He would also tell me to stand up for myself instead of running from fights—it was during those times that I hated Nana. It seemed her memory disappeared in the presence of Iemitsu, how vigorously she would nod and agree to his words.

It was _sickening._

Sometimes I wondered how this train wreck of a family could still possibly function.

Oh, right.

It didn't. Not really.

"Hello Tsunayoshi-kun," Timoteo nodded at me gravely—he had begun treating me like an adult after the first time he met me. I wondered if that was the Vongola hyper-intuition at work, seeing the soul behind the body. Sometimes it was seriously awe-inspiring, the way he could know that something was on my mind or what someone was about to do before it happened.

For him, I could give a small smile of acknowledgement. Beside me, Iemitsu pouted, looking ridiculous.

I didn't spare him a glance.

"And how have you been?" Timoteo's warm brown eyes looked deeply into mine, and I saw flickers in them as I looked back.

"Fine," I replied. I didn't lie—I _was_ fine. Not happy, perhaps, and maybe the bullying was beginning to grate on my nerves, but I _could_ and _did_ deal with it.

There was that look again, the one of puzzlement and slight disbelief. Timoteo had been asking that question since the first time he met me and he _always _got that look at my reply. Perhaps original-Tsuna used to give him a different answer, but I had no way of knowing.

I had pondered over it, briefly wondering if I should be worried—if he thought I was an imposter or a spy, but that thought was extinguished quickly. If Fate herself had put me here, there was no fear of my position, even from the Vongola Bloodline. Thus, that wasn't the reason.

Whatever it was, I hadn't cared to dig further. As long as it wasn't a threat to my job, I could care less.

"Alright," he smiled, his eyes crinkling with laugh lines, "I'm glad you are."

"And you?" I asked, as was my custom by then. He had been startled when I first did, but now he simply replied cheerfully, "Well."

Yes, I liked Timoteo. He was friendlier than the manga had depicted and I wished that they had shown his visits to Tsuna. I could understand why he called him "Grandpa." Not that I did, but I was tempted to.

With Timoteo here, the atmosphere warmed considerably, as if by his presence alone cheer had been brought to the house. I could almost picture him as Santa Claus.

A thin and possibly dangerous one, but still fitting the image of Father Christmas.

"Boss!" Iemitsu bounded up cheerfully, interrupting my next question.

I didn't bother trying to keep my smile. I let it slip off as I bowed respectfully and turned away to help set the table.

xXXx

Timoteo eyed Tsuna's retreating back as Iemitsu spoke at him. The both of them knew that Iemitsu had interrupted on purpose because he was jealous of how much friendlier Tsuna was to him. It couldn't be helped. Iemitsu was, after all, the boy's father. It was natural.

So he smiled at him warmly, ignoring the chagrin in the one he received. It was probably hard on Iemitsu, who had been so proud at having a son, to be treated so coldly. The thought made him ponder at the rather unfortunate turn of events.

It had been an unpleasant surprise when they discovered that someone had managed to get to Tsuna—even more so when it could not be traced. When the doctor had shared his diagnosis, both of them had been worried. Tsuna had had very little chance of surviving the poison that had slipped the careful surveillance surrounding him. It was a _miracle_ that he survived with no side effects.

Or perhaps not—he had changed since that day. The guards had reported his sudden maturity and newfound nonchalance. The incident on the day he returned to school had been rather stunning for them, who had developed both a fondness and protectiveness for the boy.

While Tsuna had always been rather trouble-prone, he had never attracted the attention of his peers, being rather timid and small. Because of this, he always had trouble speaking with others. However, on that day, when he was approached by a girl, and even when he was surrounded by her friends, he had been calm, if a little uneasy.

Similarly, when he was provoked by the Mugi boy, he had been completely indifferent instead of the expected fear and nervousness. He hadn't even burst into tears with the rest of the class when the situation escalated.

What was even more intriguing was when the parents were called in. While Timoteo himself frowned at the parents' scathing words—Iemitsu had not been informed—he was also curious when one of the guards told him that Tsuna had been utterly serene. Experience said that Tsuna would have been frightened stiff and crying by then, but apparently things had changed.

Of course, one could not help but be suspicious. This was the mafia they were talking about after all. Anything was possible and usually, it was to the detriment of the people involved.

Free miracles don't happen very often in the underworld.

At first, Timoteo suspected possession. He'd been prepared to put down the interloper at first sight. But when he laid eyes on Tsuna on his next visit, there had been no twinge of alarm. His intuition was silent, and the subtle tests he performed turned up clean. No replacement. No brainwashing. No strange reaction to whatever had been put into his body.

The boy was indeed transformed, but it wasn't a result of something insidious.

It was something else.

Something he still didn't know.

He had asked Tsuna how he was doing, as he had done every time he visited. It used to be that every single time Tsuna would say he was fine, but it would ring false. It was no wonder—the poor boy was an outcast in his school and sometimes picked on due to his small stature.

That time—that first time after his near-death experience—when Tsuna replied, there had been no thrum of discordance. How strange, when it was reported that his school life had turned for the worse instead.

And then the boy asked _him_ how he was doing.

It was startling. Not just because he had been brave enough to—a stark contrast from his past self—but because it had been a _long _time since someone had asked him that question sincerely. It warmed his heart even as it sank in realization of the world he lived in.

He looked at Tsuna, quietly helping his mother in the kitchen, and thought that _this_ was the reason he had taken up the mantle of Vongola.

* * *

**Probably more griping than I intended on Iemitsu, but that said, I really don't like him. Timoteo's more neutral view was a little difficult, but I try to do some justice to someone who sees different sides of him. **

**But if you ask Tsu-me? Iemitsu sucks. End of story. Timoteo probably sees the great contributions Iemitsu has done for the Vongola as well as his endless devotion and maybe life-risking determination, but whatever. You can't ask Tsu-me to say, 'Oh, he saved Nono like, seventy-billion times? Well, alright, I can forgive him for never being there for me. (Or Tsuna)'**

**He _chose _Vongola over Sawada. So yeah. I wish Iemitsu never had children. Or even married. He should stay in Vongola for freaking ever. **

**So there.**

**That said, to those reading Adoption, I'm sorry, but apparently that muse (Kyoya) has taken leave. I tried to feed him, but now he insists on sleeping. And he tries to bite when I nudge, so yeah. Wait maybe a month or two before I can produce the next chapter. It's just not happening any time soon.**

**And this one?**

**Who knows? Muse-wise it isn't fully formed yet. I don't have a clear outline on what I want to do with it. I'm probably going to leave it to stew and write some other little pieces while I wait. KHR mood feels like it's coming to a close...**

**That said, I'm not abandoning anything, so don't fret. **

**Or pester me. I'll bitechu. **

**Can't write means can't write. =.=**

**Memory25**


	5. Chapter 5

**Turns out it wasn't my KHR muse that fell asleep, just Adoption's (Kyoyaaaaaaa). **

**Well, not too sure how this chapter went, seeing as I'm kind of spazzing out at the moment between exams and assignments and quizzes... urgh. I like to write stuff that covers all the angles and answers all the questions, but I also prefer for readers to piece certain facts together. Which requires me to _not _write the obvious _or _tell you guys what the conclusions are. Which means editing the crap out of too much dialogue or too much self-justification and all that rot. Bah.**

**That said, I'm kind of glad that you guys don't seem to be having too big a problem following me. Thanks!**

* * *

Sometime between waiting for the Reborn Years to roll around and for the Shitty Years to pass, I'd developed a hobby.

A bad hobby.

The kind that may or may not be the death of me.

Again.

You see, the point of the whole Reborn saga is to develop Tsuna into a more-than-a-wimp character who doesn't flop in times of Great Need. And knowing myself, well, I wouldn't have the same attachment to any of my fellow guardians. Even Yamamoto, whom I _knew _would be my most loyal (tied with Gokudera) supporter, was seen with something like distant fondness instead of the required consuming friendship/bromance.

Which may or may not hinder my ability to spontaneously combust when Great Need looms.

So, the logical solution? Learn to do it on purpose.

The thing about it was that I _knew _that I could produce flames, and really, there would be no point if I couldn't. I'd half-forgotten Cheshire Cat's explanation on flames and concentration and purity by then, but I did recall some promised advantage due to my experience with death.

Which probably meant something along the lines of when I _could_ actually produce flames, not _before, _but I wasn't going to let some lack of life-and-death experience get in my way of work and there really was nothing better to do during the in-between years.

Not that I was going to chance the life-and-death experience thing. I'm not _that _desperate.

So yeah, most of my free time was spent looking constipated and trying to somehow force my soul to be lit on fire. When I didn't really know if it was my soul I was pushing or just my bowel movements. There was the disadvantage of getting caught unawares during class and making enemies out of a few teachers, but by then I had long determined that pristine school records would have little to do with my future.

You can't blame me for playing the punk when I actually got the chance, can you? It's not every day you get to relive your childhood _and _a confirmed job deal at the end. Well, okay, so maybe becoming Vongola Decimo wouldn't exactly come freely, but I'm pretty sure that as long as I didn't screw up the plot too much my chances wouldn't be hurt.

That said, back to my hobby. The bad one.

It started out with a single situation that caused two very different, very interesting outcomes.

One was the kick start to my flame that I needed.

It was in the third year of Elementary School, and I was completely disgusted with the direction of my life. I was, okay, I was _pissed_ with the unpleasantness that was Tsuna's fate. His home life, his school life, his social life and whatever else was complete. Shit.

And I was going crazy trying to cope with it.

I can't say that I didn't see it coming, or rather, I should say that I thought I could deal with it like some unfeeling rock and ended up having to eat my words when the stress built up to the point of implosion.

Add to that this inkling in the back of my mind, kind of like an itch you couldn't quite reach, and we had a recipe for impending disaster. At least, a personal one.

And I'm pretty sure I don't have Vongola Intuition, because that feeling is all me. I don't get it very often, but it happens.

So I had this little prickling of an idea and this shitty situation in front of me which was driving me nuts. And I had x and something like epsilon, but no y or even proof that the two were related in the same equation. (So sue me if I like Math.)

What happened was this.

I got this crazy idea in my head to run away from home a little (breathing space requirement) and maybe I could sort of tag along on the back of Iemitsu's car or something and go to Italy like all those crazy-ass fanfictions I used to read and well, maybe meet Xanxus or something. And sort of take him out of the equation? Or become allies? (Yeah, I sort-of liked Xanxus. Definitely cool guy. Irony unintended.) Or I could maybe hitch a ride and end up somehow in the middle of Estraneo territory and save Mukuro and co's sorry asses.

I was depressed and sleep-deprived. _Bite me. _

So Iemitsu was visiting and I'd decided to stay awake for the period he was here in order to sneak out. What I hadn't intended on was having to listen to my 'parents' make out like teenagers until the wee hours of the night. _Every freaking night._

Traumatizing.

Completely. _Traumatizing. _

I deserve a fucking award for keeping my cool.

And not asking during breakfast why I'm still an only child.

Jesus _Christ, _I need therapy lessons.

But that wasn't the big thing. Nope. It was stumbling upon one of my apparent security detail because they were curious as to why I was out of bed in the middle of the night one day.

Oh, and meeting _Hibari Kyoya. _

Yep. Bite-you-to-death-Namimori-rules Hibari Kyoya.

Ugh…

No idea what he was doing awake in the middle of the night and what he was doing in the vicinity of _my home, _but yeah. I ran into one of my guards whom I mistook for an intruder during my nightly vigil and screamed the ear drums off of, bolted _out _of the house…and ran into one growling tonfa-wielding boy.

Iemitsu and Nana weren't disturbed. Someone must have taken care of that. Huh. Or they were too involved in their activities and I screamed in tandem with one of them or something.

Ew. _Brain. Bleach._

So I ran into this completely offended carnivore, bowled him over despite the weight difference, and continued on down the street towards school. (Because it was the only route I could remember.)

It took a surprisingly long while for the bemused team to catch up with me, and I made it to something like four houses down before I was nearly tackled by a grown man. More screaming ensued and a comical game of cat and mouse, and then I heard sounds of a struggle.

A little curious and probably tempting death, I turned and saw Hibari taking on two men.

And _winning. _

Like…what?

_Dude, _Hibari was kickass even before he was a _teenager. _That's terrifying and strangely comforting.

So what did I do? I ran towards him.

Complete dumbass move.

So the guy who tackled me sneaks up behind me and grabs me, making me shriek again. I twist around and bite him on the arm viciously and he drops me in shock. (Definitely not pain because he was covered in something like army fatigues.) I managed to take three strides towards Hibari before I'm thrown over a shoulder and see Hibari getting a knee to the gut and turning _white. _

I'm…not quite sure what happened after that.

It was like drinking alcohol, the way it pooled in my chest warmly. I could feel my shuddering breath even out and the pain in my lungs ease. There was an unbelievable clarity to my thoughts and sight, and even now, I can picture the look on Hibari's face as I _exploded _into motion.

On a shoulder. Kick face to get down.

Falling and landing on head. Twist to land on feet.

Child in danger. Two opponents. Professionals. Do not engage.

Grab-child-hoist-on-back-_run. _

And I made it to Namimori _Middle _School before I stopped. It was on the same road as Nami Elementary (Nami-sho) just at the other end. And I made it from my house to there (around 2/3 km) in less than _five _minutes.

_Holy shit. _

Hibari was out of it, sweat beading on his forehead as he bit his lips and trembled. He was completely pale and his eyes were unfocused. I probably would have freaked out if I wasn't in HDWM or DWM. Whichever it was.

As it was, I knew that he'd be fine as long as he got some rest. So I broke into Nami-chu by jumping over the gate and left him lounging on the couch in the Reception Room. Which I somehow managed to find after a series of random turns.

I climbed out after that and started making my way home, and this is the weird part. I almost ran into the trio of 'intruders' again, only this time, I knew they meant no harm. But I didn't need the commotion that would surround me if the Vongola (or heaven forbid, _Iemitsu)_ knew that I had activated my flame.

What is the attribute of the Sky flame?

Harmony.

And what does that actually mean?

I can 'harmonize' with any flame and sometimes take on the characteristics of another, which is why the Sky flame can unlock any box weapon. That said, I can also 'harmonize' with any _person _and thus get a read on what he or she is thinking. It's the regular Sky-attributed person's version of Vongola Hyperintuition. Also commonly displayed in some form of empathy_. _

How did I know all this?

Some of it is conjecture, but some of it was just obvious. Like something that should be apparent. Before my flames, I kept pondering and pondering, but now that I had them, or had them in _active _form, it was just _there. _Like how you knew you had to suck in air and blow it out to breathe.

One of them was a Mist-user. I tested out the feel of his flames and tried my best to copy it before unleashing my version of it on them.

Mist flames _construct, _and by nature, their users are wily and complex and creative. The usual result is something similar to an external input that affects your senses. Like incense or loud noises. The problem is that typical Mist-users can't really account for their opponents' thoughts and feelings which affect how they perceive the introduced illusion. Or if it succeeds at all.

If something seems impossible to them, they won't see it.

With my harmonization, I could get _into _their minds in a way. My Sky flames melded easily into them (especially since the other two were non-flame-users) and with the Mist touch, I _could _account for perception_. _

So I made a few changes to the images they saw. _Constructed _tall, dark figures in place of Hibari and me. Blurred the image of me climbing out of bed. And adjusted their movements and reactions in battle to factor in the difference in sizes.

The last one was probably from the 'unlocked potential' from my flames, or I would have never thought of it.

It was amazingly easy, not just because they had been on alert for an intruder, but because they hadn't quite gotten over their disbelief at my sudden ability to fight/run/sneak around. And also their own ingrained paranoia at everything and anything strange. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to make someone believe in something when they _want _to.

And so I left them a little concerned with the escaped intruders, but relieved that their charge was safe.

Iemitsu left the next morning well sexed-up and _alone _because I was too worn out and aching in muscle groups I didn't know I had to stay awake.

Bastard.

xXXx

Right, I never mentioned what my 'bad hobby' was, right? The _other _'outcome' of the incident.

In a way it was more like a consequence of activating my flames. It was probably thanks to my heightened sensitivity that that previous inkling became a more solid theory. I had a…_direction _and a probable way to test things.

Some of them were a little vague, but each one lent credence to my theory until finally, I became certain of it: No matter what I did, Fate would find a way to force my divergent path back to that of the original Tsuna's.

There had been previous evidence: My personality change had not prevented the moniker 'Dame-Tsuna' or the bullying. My change in attitude towards Iemitsu had not caused any significant change to our 'family life'.

Other tests I did were meeting Ryohei. By right, Tsuna shouldn't meet Kyoko's brother until Reborn appears, and so I did my best to try and catch a glimpse of her elusive sibling. It was futile—he was as good as invisible. And Kyoko did not mention him in the few conversations we had. For all purposes, Sasagawa Ryohei was completely non-existent.

It was enough that I didn't feel the need to directly mention him to Kyoko. I wasn't _that _keen to meet up with a boxing-obsessed 'to the extreme', 'call me Onii-san' guy.

I noted that Hana had attached herself to Kyoko as well. She had not been in our school up 'til the middle of third year, but her father had a job transfer. (Apparently, she was a Tokyo-native.) It pinged enough on my radar that I knew it was far too convenient to be just a coincident. It had to be a…trick of _fate_.

Another 'test' didn't require any input from myself. I simply observed as Hibari began consolidating his power and creating the beginnings of the Discipline Squad. He didn't seem to remember the adventure we had that night (or maybe it was me he had forgotten) and thus my 'dame' self didn't so much as turned his head. Even when I nearly plowed into him dodging another group of bullies.

On a side note, Kusakabe Tetsuya still had the pompadour.

And thus, I came to the conclusion that there wasn't much I needed to do to follow the plot of KHR. And even if I didn't, Fate would do its damned best to make sure I arrived at the same ending.

And from thus came my bad hobby.

I would do my best to tempt Fate and _change _the plot. Living in a fixed timeline was _boring. _If the main events remained the same (Meeting Reborn, Gathering the Guardians, Ring Battle, Time-Travel, etc etc) then I had nothing to fear. So I went out of my way to introduce new factors into the story, even if Fate was steadfastly keeping Ryohei away and making everyone mysteriously ignore my orange flashing eyes. (I had to practice _somehow._ During class seemed convenient.)

And this is how I came to meet Irie Shoichi.

xXXx

The strange thing was that I hadn't actually been going out of my way to meet him. It was probably some concession of fate to allow me to change things and find a way to make them work without me screwing something irreparable up.

That said, it wasn't particularly memorable. Or interesting.

Shoichi is a boring kid.

You know the really quiet nerd in the corner with completely no social skills? Yeah, that's him.

By the way, he likes sci-fi to the point of cliché.

So I was skipping school one day (strange how Hibari never came after me despite numerous times _and _my attendance never seemed to have problems) and wandering around the shopping district. I didn't get much pocket money during Elementary school, so I was just window shopping and familiarizing myself with Namimori.

And then this strange kid came skidding to a halt in front of me in a bike.

Fun fact, Shoichi is _very_ good at cycling.

I had something of less than a minute to get over my _holy-shit-I-could-have-__**died**_ panic before he was all over me apologizing and begging for forgiveness. He couldn't have been more spineless if he tried, but boy did he try.

I nearly beat him up anyway. (Self-defense out of school had been excluded in my promise after a couple of too close run-ins with the hordes of Yakuza running around Namimori. Why were there so many thugs in town anyway? Someone wasn't maintaining the discipline enough…) It took some tears and quivering and an offer of ice-cream before I let him off.

Hey, I've given up on being nice to people. We're not six anymore.

But I had to ask why an eight year old, albeit _genius _eight year old, was cycling around town without a minder.

Turns out dear Sho-chan's family background is kind of iffy in a normal way. He isn't so much neglected as constantly overshadowed by his older sister, who is a genius in the more conventional, _social_ way. She's kind of like Sasagawa Kyoko, but less innocent. Which is why it's completely understandable that her parents would prefer her. Kyoko sparkles in a way that keeps catching my eye even though I _know _I don't see her that way.

Right, moving on…

So me and Shoichi, we became temporary friends as I helped him locate this anime CD that he'd been waiting to be launched for _forever_ and he bribed me some more with food. His family is _rich. _I tagged along as he went searching for more geek paraphernalia and helped with the talking-to-adults and talking-to-_girls _part.

So we had a completely normal afternoon outing and I had something to while away my time. It was okay, not really exciting, but fun anyway. But then Shoichi got too attached and forgot about stranger danger (in his defense, another eight-year-old boy isn't really threatening) and wanted to trade contacts and stuff.

I said no.

I knew I'd see him again, and he was pretty cool in that genius nerd way, but I could already see where things would be heading if I became too close to him.

Byakuran would be missing a uni friend for one.

I'd be stuck with _another _bully victim to defend for another.

And well, things would just be too complicated for my tastes.

I mean, Shoichi only gets involved in the mafia during the Time Travel arc (not counting future-Shoichi, because he won't be that way after I'm done) and even then he's more like a side-accomplice or something. If he has a _direct _connection to me, Vongola Decimo, he'd be even more embroiled in mafia business than any normal kid ought to be.

Reborn'd eat him up.

Besides, I have to think about what happens when I _do _become Vongola Decimo, which is way after the manga ends, and I'm pretty sure it isn't all sunshine and rainbows (pun intended). Mafia means bloodshed and treachery and _death. _And torture, and human experiments and even more gory, _sick _behavior.

If I can spare a kid that, why not?

_I'm _the one becoming Vongola Decimo anyway, and who said that _all _the side characters _had _to join Vongola under my leadership?

So I turned away a downcast Shoichi, told him to be more careful when cycling, and walked home.

He was just a boring little kid anyway.

* * *

**I'm a little worried Tsu-me turned into too much of a goody-goody, but I think it wasn't too bad. I mean, _I _wouldn't let an innocent kid step into the world of the mafia just because of a stupid fate-induced meeting anyway. **

**To my fellow Guardians who seemed to have problems guessing who each other are (in order of who was asked first): Sun, uniquemangalover. Storm, RandomCitizen. Cloud, leoInuyuka. Rain, psychotic luv. I am still looking for Mist and Lightning, although I think I've found a Mist XD No need to apply, since I'm making decisions based on what kind of feel I get from your reviews. XP**

**That said, I'd like to ask KeiGinya if she would like to be my Mist. XDD I loved your reviews and you've already established that you're very Mist-y. Lol. **

**A few other people I'd like to acknowledge for supporting me for the longest time: shirokuromokona, .Enadi, Potentialism, kenegi, Shanagi95, xOxO Lost Angel OxOx, LifeIsARayOfSunshine, steel-alchemist, TsubakiHana, SwallowSword... erm... and many many others who also reviewed but not as often? Not that I didn't want to mention you, but my memory, haha, is very very poor. You're free to review/PM me to complain! XD I'll add you to the list in the next chapter I update (be it Adoption or Lemonade). **

**Annnd, that's it I guess? Not sure when I'll update again, but since exam period is over, probably more often. Though I still have reports to write...urgh.**

**Ta!**

**Memory25**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't have much to say. I think I spent all my words on this chapter. It was an outpouring of words that left me a little speechless, but I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

As I determinedly trudged on with life, things gradually settled into a routine. It wasn't peaceful, it wasn't very _nice, _but it was regular enough that I could consider it _stable. _Things were comforting in their reliability, and I decided that it was enough for me.

Then Nana started pestering me.

I had no idea what got into her—maybe some lifestyle show she watched about child-rearing or something—but she began to push me to make friends, to join clubs, to get outdoors more. She sighed at me, wondered why I never brought friend home, admonished me for being aloof, and became downright _nosy. _

And _irritating. _

I could see her point of view, honestly, but it was just a little too much for me to take. I was—_finally—_settled, and she wanted me to 'expand my horizons' and 'enjoy life'. Find 'interests' and '_do something_ with myself'.

The first time it happened, I grit my teeth hard enough to lock my jaw.

The second time it occurred—the very next day—I drove my nails into my palm until there were tiny half-moons beaded with red drops.

The third time she spoke, I ignored manners and locked myself in my room.

I repeated the third action several times before I realized that Nana was as stubborn as her son in different ways. And then I sat on my bed and quietly muttered my resentment at her ability to be immovable to her son, but fold like wet paper in front of strangers. Or Iemitsu.

It took me a few hours before I could get over the latter. Humanity can be so flawed sometimes.

And then I woke up the next day to be faced with another enquiry on my social life.

I fled.

I started leaving the house in search of quieter places.

There was some initial concern, but I was adamant. She wanted me to 'expand my horizons', after all. While I could not do the rest, this I could do. We had some discussions on safety which I bulldozed through sheer mule-headedness. It took some time, but she gave in. Apparently I only had to find the right angle.

She was breathless with joy when I told her I wanted to 'be manly' and 'follow Dad's footsteps'. I was a little disturbed at how easily she acquiesced after that.

So I went further and further for longer periods of time. Until I started staying away during most of the weekends.

I was ten the first time.

It had been a trying week with me returning home bruised four out of five days and facing the consequences of it—tears and disappointment and frustrated sighs. I'd lost my lunch as many times and a teacher who didn't like me had kept picking me to answer questions. It was enough that I was walking around with solid orange eyes by late afternoon.

I'd never practiced using my dying will in front of Nana before, I hadn't wanted to tempt fate should she question me. Strangers may dismiss things, especially when few looked me in the eye, but Nana might not. And I didn't trust myself to allow the buffer of calm to fall.

So I went to a park and sat there for a while.

It was morning before I realized it.

My return was met with slight worry, but I guess Nana had become used to me going out enough that me staying out late didn't cause too much panic. I should probably have been disappointed, but the only thing I could feel was relief.

Of course, I started staying out later and later, exploring the streets of Namimori. I went further and further and sometimes got lost. I walked in circles and rested wherever. But then I would stand again and walk. One day, I walked and walked and walked until I found myself back home.

It was then that I asked Nana to buy me a camping kit.

My request was received with enthusiasm. It was probably proof of how pathetically we functioned as a family, that Nana could allow her ten year old son to go camping alone. I still can't forget that. It's something I have never quite understood.

Perhaps this world is dissimilar to my old one in more ways than just geography? Perhaps ruthlessness was not confined to just the mafia? Or perhaps…it was simply that Iemitsu had convinced Nana that this was the way families worked.

I wonder what Nana's childhood was like.

In any case, I began a more thorough exploration of Namimori once I was appropriately geared up. Iemitsu obviously provided us with more than enough yen, and so I was very well equipped indeed. I did careful some careful research and made plans and decided then executed them.

The first was filing for leave of absence in school for two weeks. Nana had given me the okay after I requested some 'find myself' time.

Yes, I'm beginning to understand the way things work here.

The next was preparing for a solo hiking trip up Death Mountain.

…It was the only point of interest I could remember from the manga.

And then I shouldered my pack, took out my map, and walked out.

xXXx

Death Mountain (actually called the Namiyama range) was surprisingly tranquil. Obviously, Reborn had had a lot more to do with Tsuna's troubles than indicated. There were perfectly safe and well-trod paths to follow, and even a couple of resting points.

It took me four days with a tent, eating a mixture of food I'd brought and plants I picked, before I reached one of the summits.

And the sight was as breathtaking as I expected.

Better, after I broke out the kettle and the last packet of instant coffee.

I actually sighed in awe as I looked down at the view. Not quite bird's eye, but high enough that I could see the way a breeze would rustle through the entire forest, leaving the trees waving together in ripples.

I've never had the chance (or the urge, actually) to go on a camping trip, but this, _this _made me see why some people enjoyed traveling so much_. _

Namimori has a very diverse landscape. It's actually a _huge _town, comprising of its own mountain range, lake, shopping district, temple street, and even a town square where they hold celebrations. Oh, and it's by the ocean, so we can spend summer by the beach.

No matter how much I explore, I can't seem to finish.

And I _love_ Japan culture, not just for its manga and anime, but for its history and art and elegant way of life. So I visited every single historical monument at least once. There are so many shrines here, all dedicated to different gods.

There're a few on Namiyama too. One of them is dedicated to the kami of two waterfalls, also known as the Male and Female waterfalls. The Male waterfall is large and wide, the type where monks do that meditation training under. The Female one is small, narrow, and steep. Both of them meet at a stream that flows into the main river down the side of the mountain.

And it is just gorgeous.

Autumn is an especially beautiful season to go mountain climbing. The whole mountain is a sea of red and orange from afar. In the dense forest, the sky is obscured, but you get a brilliant view of the tree canopies.

I may have picked up flower/leaf pressing as a side hobby. And collecting acorns and pinecones.

Geez, look at me. I'm turning into an environmentalist.

In my previous life, I was born in a concrete jungle, in one of the busiest cities on Earth. The only peeks at nature I got were small parks and soccer fields. I'd never seen a river before. Only canals. I was content though, I'd never thought about travelling and seeing more of the outside world.

Now? I kind of want to go to Italy just to see what it's like. On _this _Earth at least. Certainly, it probably won't have all the exact same city/town names, maybe not even the exact same continents, but it's still intriguing. Still new. Still filled with possibilities.

Maybe I could try the espresso there.

But that was for the future. Namimori is sufficiently eye-opening for the present time being.

Living in a place with four seasons is just so interesting! It's like the entire town transforms every three months.

Spring? Sakura blossoms _everywhere. _

Did you know that there are _dark pink _Sakura? I've only ever seen pictures of the light pink or near-white ones, but there are actually cherry blossoms that are nearly magenta in color. Namimori is one of the few towns that have it instead of the more common tree.

And they are completely covered in blossoms. There's not a single leaf on the branches. The view is even better at night, when the town council hangs up paper lanterns (no street lamps in the Sakura park to ruin the ambience) and they are _gorgeous._ Maybe a little eerie, or lonely looking, but still gorgeous.

I may or may not have snuck out at night to take peeks and have a midnight stroll. Or a dozen.

And festivals? You have no idea. Spring is one of the busiest seasons for celebration in Namimori. Hanami is a season-long festival dedicated to flower viewing and we have entire stalls selling only Sakura-related stuff. I have a yukata Nana recently bought me, although it's just a solid grey with a navy obi. It was one of the only times I missed being female—they have way more diverse choices in traditional clothing. Even their yukata had seasonal patterns—cherry blossoms one of the spring ones.

Summer, as everyone knows, is the time for natsu-matsuri. The weather gets hot and muggy and severely draining. And of course, it's typical Japanese logic to do the opposite of sensible and host a rambunctious celebration that involves even more exercise.

We get games and sports and competitions. And amezake and takoyaki and grilled squid. And beach competitions like volleyball, surfing, and just plain swimming.

And_ fireworks_.

Fireworks in my previous home were severely restricted due to being in one of the urban areas. There wasn't much space for them, and who knew what would happen if one of the buildings got burnt marks or something? The only displays we had were limited to within the city stadiums and varied from ten to fifteen minutes.

In Namimori? There was a fireworks display that lasted an entire _hour _on the beach. The rockets were aimed out towards the water, and they were huge things big enough to fit in cannons_. _The explosions lit up the entire night sky and fell in shining sparkles of every color of the rainbow.

It was after my first summer festival that I decided to get a camera.

Autumn, as I described, is a season of red leaves and crackling fires. The weather gets a little colder than comfortable, and so everyone starts covering up. Not so much that we're waddling around in fat suits, but enough that there are virtually no crimes of indecency and the policemen get a rest.

Most days are dry enough that skin starts chapping without moisturizer, and it's also the period that we start going to the local hot springs more. Once in a while, we get the occasional rain that leaves the ground slick and wet with mushy fauna. Those are the days I find my careful anti-dame-Tsuna grace challenged.

Winter is the season for smoked sweet potatoes. When we dig up the ones growing in our garden and wrap up the ripe ones in aluminum foil. When I get out the bags of dried leaves I'd been steadily collecting the previous months and burn them in a hole. It's really the only time I am allowed to play with fire (with thick thermal gloves), and there isn't so much burning flames as soft hisses and a face full of soot. The end product is sweet and hot and best of all, homemade. And that makes it much better than the ones we buy from the street vendor.

It's also the season for ice-skating and making snowmen.

I took the latter to the extreme because I'd never seen snow before. I made snow-me (the hair is a nightmare to get right), snow-Nana, snow-babies, snow-mountains, snow pillars, and snow…things. Any shape I could viably produce with a lump of snow I tried. I even managed a decent snow bunny that Nana kept in the freezer for the next few weeks.

Unfortunately, my opinion has since soured after being used for target practice. It is extremely uncomfortable to get snow under my collar when it's already so. Damned. _Cold. _

I hate children.

I don't remember being so disgustingly, unreasonably, vicious when I was young.

Where are all the decent people in this town?

Whatever. I'll just go on another trip. Maybe to the lakeside this time…

xXXx

Other than the newfound passion for exploration, I had something else to occupy my time. It helped that I was using my own two feet to reach all my destinations, and that I usually went to places that needed my camping equipment.

I'm talking about practicing igniting my dying will flame, of course.

It's actually more similar to Hyper Dying Will Mode than Dying Will Mode, in that it unlocks my inner limiters than external ones. However, instead of the (what I imagined) burst of insight, what happens is something much subtler. Like the unfurling of a leaf, my perception is sharpened as I sharpen my will. Nuances become clearer, the 'words in between the lines' become apparent. Body language becomes my second tongue.

Full out Dying Will Mode seems to be out of reach no matter how hard I try. I suppose it's the difference between a normal situation and life-and-death.

It's surprisingly simple to create a dying will. Determination is fuel, and passion is spark. The problem is actually achieving these two. The dying will flame is almost exactly like a fire. You gather your will the same way you drum up courage. And then you…_will. _

It's a difficult concept to explain. It's different from pressing on determinedly, doggedly, stubbornly. That's just gathering more and more fuel without the spark. Perhaps those who have never experienced it won't understand, since it is that _spark _that is makes all the difference between will and _dying will. _It's rather aptly named, since you feel your determination getting burned up as the flame is lit, and it keeps burning until you run out.

It was difficult to pin down the proper feeling to ignite my flame, but once I had it, it was easy. At first it was _need. _When that warm pool of will and determination meets that tiny staticky hitch of _need-need-need-to-__**do-this**_. But later, it became _want _instead. Because the feeling of being centered _exactly. _Of being completely balanced and focused and certain. Of knowing how to act, how to speak, what someone feels.

It is so very delicious.

It made studying easier. Made learning easier. Made my hands swifter and surer as I tied knots and pitched my tent and caught fish and scaled steep slopes. Made my legs go that extra step—even though it hurt, but it was worth it—because I could do it—just another lap, another step, another jump.

I knew _exactly _how far to push. _Exactly _how hard to work. It was my body and my brain and my mind and my soul. I knew it from the tips of my toes to the ends of my spiky hair. I got stronger, and faster, and sharper, and cleverer.

The only thing I could not improve—the only thing I had to work by myself on—was the fuel. My conviction. It was a finicky thing, subject to my moods and how I felt at the moment.

But I adapted.

On days I felt strung out and tired and frustrated, I turned that need for calm, for focus, for stability, into the _will _for calm, for focus, for stability. The flames produced will be steady, with a white-hot heart, and solid enough to build a wall. They took me away from the situation, divided my emotions from my body, and kept me standing. It was a flame of _you can do this, you __**will **__do this, and you will __**survive**__ this _and most times I find it generates its own fuel.

On days I was excited and overjoyed and breathless, I pressed that feeling into my heart and cherished it and encouraged it to burn brightly and hotly and clean. Until I could feel my breath stutter from the joy of it and how I wished this would last forever. These flames are unstable, flickering things. They take my conviction, my will, and scorch imprints of the moment into my soul, flaring for precious few seconds before dissipating abruptly. The embers of it remain warm and glowing for today, tomorrow, and sometimes the next.

And life is beautiful.

On days I am quiet and thoughtful and reserved, on days I am turning ideas in my head about life, about past, about present, about purpose and attachment and right and wrong, it is hard to burn anything. But perhaps because it is well-practiced, the insistent push brings to life a small, careful flame. It feeds lightly, on my little promises. Minute bites on my promise to remember, but move on, shallow sips on finishing what I started, and tiny nibbles to stay true to myself.

The baby fire is like the little candle in the night, the bright star in the sky, the silent wish-and-vow. It flickers when my will is wavering, but burns gently when it is firm. It shows when I lie to myself, because it is small enough to snuff out immediately when there is no nourishment. And then I freeze in shame, the feeling cold and hollow.

It is not my favorite flame, but I appreciate the lessons I learn from it.

There are other fires, too. Not all of them burn well. Some spark from circumstance and cannot be replicated. Others are too different for my personality to reach for.

But only one of them burns painfully.

On days I feel the sharp bite of resentment, of bitterness and helplessness, I may pull and get something else instead of the calm and focus I intend. Or not intend, because I don't want the distance, the stability, the wall. I want the _fire, _the _burn, _the sizzling, hissing, spitting heat. I want the crunch of bones under my fist and feet, the wail of pain from bloody lips. I want to _break _and _destroy _and _burn to ashes_ and it is one of the few times that the air around me bends and twists in transparent ribbons of smoke.

It is one of the fires I can't put out easily, and it burns blackened spots in me. I always fall to my knees shaking, but there is no sweat on my brow because I am dry.

Dry as a bone.

All these I experienced and digested and learnt. Some left me weak and limp against the wall, while others allowed me to walk home. A few laid me out on the ground for days, or ravenous for food, or trembling in fear and touching my heart to make sure it had not burnt out. Sometimes I burned and sputtered, too tired, too afraid, too worn out. Those leave me weeping brokenly, every breath I took rattling the emptiness inside.

But I grew and pushed and grew some more. I lived and breathed and burned. I stopped more outbursts, kept the wish alight, and found more reasons to kindle the incandescent joy. But most of all, I pressed my will and pushed on and took step by step by step and made something of myself, and did something good, and didn't lose my temper, and didn't let anyone drag me down.

As I waited.

* * *

**This is actually my second version of chapter 6. I wrote something somewhat similar, but less...lyrical I guess. It's different from other chapters, and I hope it flows well. **

**Memory25**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I wrote out a chapter, tried to fit it to the story flow, and somewhat hit my head on a wall because I'd hyped myself up on too much coffee. This thing has gone through so many rewrites I'm going insane just looking at the same words over and over again. We've finally reached the beginning of Reborn and I'm going to start slowing down. **

**That said, to the anonymous reviewer to asked if the 'monologue arc' was over, I say SCREW YOU because do you think that I did not take into account the difficulty of fitting several years into under 10 chapters and properly explaining things AND adjusting my character to the frikken' environment?! And here I thought I'd already expressed my exasperation at having to _wait _so much at the end of things. Because truly, even I was getting bogged down and I could not cut to the start of the manga because I am NOT WRITING A FRIKKEN STORY THAT ONLY COMPRISES THE FRIKKEN MANGA PLOTLINE. **

**Let me elaborate: I am NOT writing for the SOLE PURPOSE OF INSERTING A FRIKKEN CHARACTER INTO THE SAME PLOT AND RAZZLE-DAZZLING ALL THE CHARACTERS SO THEY FRIKKEN FALL IN LOVE OR TO THEIR KNEES AT THY AWESOME AWESOMENESS. That is BULLSHIT. If you think that my story was something like that, SCREW OFF. I don't need or want a reader who doesn't appreciate effort. _  
_**

**That said, if you think I'm overreacting, then go write a story and try it for size. Do you know how much planning goes into something so long-term? I probably speak for all the writers out there. **

**Come back if you have a decent explanation or substantiation to your accusation and lousy expectation of my writing. Or better yet, go write something to fit your interests better.**

* * *

Time rolled by.

Slowly.

It couldn't have moved any slower. If it did, I'm pretty sure time would be moving _backwards. _As it was, I spent the next few years oscillating between being frustrated and stupidly bored.

There was a brief moment of excitement (and hope) when Nana told me Iemitsu had 'become a star' after a period of prolonged absence, but it was completely rockslided by the realization that there were two more years to go.

_Two years. _For all that I had a disgustingly high-pitched, unbroken voice and not a single hair on my chest, I found myself aging a millennia waiting for Reborn.

In the end, to preserve my sanity, I pushed the knowledge out of my mind, shut down all speculation on the future, and forced myself to survive day by day. It was grueling, wearying, and thankless. Several times I pushed myself further than my body could take in order to have the reprieve only unconsciousness could provide. It came to a point that I had numbed myself to my emotions.

And then Kyoko started dating Mochida Kensuke.

The news got to me two weeks late, and even then I'd dismissed it. It wasn't until after I'd strolled out the school that the implications of it hit me. Certain things had faded with time. Some more than others, and the beginning, the so-called 'daily life arc' was virtually meaningless to me.

In any case.

_It was time. _

I could have jumped for joy, right there, in the middle of crossing the road. In fact, I broke out in huge guffaws and startled the people walking alongside me. I returned home with the most obnoxious grin on my face and ended up staying up the entire night from excitement.

Of course, I overslept the next day.

XXXx

"Tsu-kun!"

I jumped. It had been a _long _time since I've had to be awoken by Nana.

Usually I wake up early enough to have a jog, a shower, and then decide on whether or not I want to go to school during breakfast. Since it was a Saturday, I had more leeway, but I usually got up _earlier _so that I could hightail it out of the house before Nana-the-nag awoke and maybe watch the sunrise somewhere nice.

"Tsu-kun!" Nana scolded, "You're being lazy! You should enjoy life more! Mama wants you to be able to say 'Ah! I love living!' with a smile!"

I deadpanned. Nana's romantic tendencies had been transferred onto myself after Iemitsu had buggered off for too long. Two months into his absence and she'd started going at me about finding a girlfriend, loving life, and other starry-eyed dreams. I'd started taking longer 'trips', especially during school vacations, but she simply hounded me all the more when I returned.

Honestly? I wished she'd just get a boy toy on the side already. It's not like Iemitsu could fault her for that…

But anyway, I was still blearily swiping at my eyes when she flourished a flier in my face and declared that she was finally taking action. That should have clued me in, but I was still half-asleep. It wasn't until I caught the words 'home tutor' that I froze.

I could have smacked myself on the head.

Instead, I grudgingly congratulated fate on a hand well played.

And then the doorbell rang.

I'm not sure who scrambled to door faster, me or Nana. There was an awkward moment when she elbowed me aside (probably a skill/habit picked up from bargain sales) and nearly nosedived onto the welcome mat, but we ended up sort-of squished together at the peep-hole. Of course, we didn't see anything, and Nana opened the door to do the expected puzzled lookabout. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth at the smirk our guest had as she completely 'overlooked' him.

It seemed that Reborn wasn't beneath (pardon the pun) taking pleasure from 'Maman's' confusion.

But even I was surprised at the figure he cut. Physically, he was truly a _baby. _Not a child, or even a toddler, but an honest to god _baby. _He was so _tiny _that I found myself questioning just _how _he could fight. He had baby fat on his cheeks, his hands were small and pudgy, and his legs were squashy. The head under the fedora was too big for his body in the way a baby's usually was. Like an improper fraction.

It was difficult to reconcile all that with 'World's Greatest Hitman'.

"Ciaosu!" He nodded in greeting, drawing Nana's attention downward after watching her head swivel about for a while, "I am Reborn."

"Oh my!" Nana sparkled, "What a cute baby! Are you lost, Reborn-kun?"

Thankfully, Reborn ignored the cooing and went straight to business, "I'm the home tutor you hired. Sawada, yes?"

…The stunned silence that greeted him was probably something he relished.

I should probably have played innocent a little, but I couldn't be arsed after the rude awakening I'd had. And before coffee too. "Yes," I nodded, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Nana's face.

"Oh my!" she repeated, "Surely, there's a mistake…"

Reborn shot her a sweet, cherubic smile that he probably practiced to get _just right_, with a touch of self-deprecation and ruefulness and earnestness, "I get that often, but I assure you, I am perfectly qualified. I came a day early to do an evaluation."

I raised an eyebrow (surely, even a puppy-dog pout wasn't _that _powerful), only to raise the other when Nana beamed back and started ushering him inside. Even with her accepting nature, this was a little farfetched.

Unbelievable.

"No, thank you," Reborn refused the offer of a drink politely, "I would prefer to get on with the evaluation immediately. Let's go to your room, Tsunayoshi-kun."

I shot Nana a look, but she simply nodded.

Well.

I guess this was actually happening then.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked back up the stairs.

xXXx

It was a little creepy having a hitman at my back, even if I knew that he wasn't targeting me. I could feel little shivers of unease running down my spine under that beady stare.

The moment I entered my room, the door shut behind me.

I didn't jump, but it was a near thing. Instead, I settled on my unmade bed to face the greatest hitman in the world.

Who was meticulously assembling a machine gun from the parts in his suitcase.

I stared.

It was something to know that this baby was one of the strongest _killers _in the world, but another to see him smoothly fitting together the pieces of one of his tools with the ease of years of repetition. He slotted everything together with clicks that echoed in the silent room and screwed the muzzle on in less than two minutes.

And then he pointed it at me.

"Ciaosu," he repeated, a little too gleefully to be polite this time, "I am Reborn, the strongest hitman in the world. And I will train you into Vongola Decimo."

I barely heard the words, because all of a sudden, my focus had narrowed onto that barrel in front of me. Every trace of my lethargy was flushed out at the spike of adrenaline that accompanied the urge to dodge and roll to the side and streak out the door as fast as I could. Out the window if required.

Reborn wasn't pointing the gun for show. He was perfectly willing to shoot me.

That was quite the wake-up call. Literally and metaphorically.

I swallowed.

"Vongola Decimo?" I echoed quietly. My whole body was tensed and ready to bolt. I absently wondered if this was how Tsuna usually felt around Reborn. Like having a predator eye you down and debate whether he would eat you or let you go. Or maul you to pieces for the heck of it.

"The strongest mafia family in the world," Reborn replied in that too-happy tone, "And you are its heir. Tenth generation. That's what Decimo stands for."

I blinked frantically and remember the next questions, "Wh-what happened to the previous heirs?" And control my fucking stutter.

"What makes you think there were others?" Reborn eyed me narrowly. It heightened the feeling of being targeted.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I muttered, "If I were the only heir to a mafia family I'd have been exposed to this from the start. Instead, I'm a complete civilian and if that doesn't scream 'last choice', I have no idea what does."

The hitman snorted, "At least you're not completely useless. You're right. There were three successors before you. All of them are dead."

I felt the expression on my face attempt to melt into a permanent scowl, "That doesn't bode well."

"It's the mafia," the arcobaleno's voice was dry. He was still staring at me with the intensity of a laser cutter.

I wasn't going to ask what happened to the previous heirs. I had no doubt that if he were to shove the photos of their bodies in my face I would be losing what I had of last night's dinner. I cocked my head to the side and offered a crooked smile, "Iemitsu?"

"Hn," Reborn replied, "He's head of CEDEF and External Advisor to the Ninth."

"And that means…?"

"He's second in the whole of Vongola."

"Ah."

We sat there in silence, tension humming in the air. I took the opportunity to stare at Reborn carefully even as he stared back.

He was still a baby unlike any baby I'd seen. It was alien. _Unnatural._

No baby should hold itself so confidently, so _deliberately. _The gun rested in his hands unwaveringly and comfortably. His wide black eyes were far too aware, far too _knowing _for a child_._

The clock beside my table caught my eye. 11 o' clock.

I cleared my throat, "Erm. I should wash up."

"A mafia boss should not be tardy for anything," Reborn intoned with unyielding severity, "Even if it was not a school day you should wake up early, dame-Tsuna."

I opened my mouth to protest. If he had been observing me as I expected, then he should _know _that today was an exception, not the norm.

But a chill ran down my back again and I closed it.

The bastard looked disappointed.

I grudgingly got up and got my clothes.

xXXx

When I finished cleaning up, I went down and was greeted with the sight of Reborn sipping a cup of coffee as Nana chatted happily at him. She peppered him with questions that he skillfully sidestepped or outright lied to, and pressed him with homemade snacks.

I was a little jealous. Nana's baking is _very_ good.

"This is delicious, Maman," the hitman flattered charmingly, "Your cooking is wonderful."

"Oh my!" Nana giggled, slightly red-faced.

The sight of a baby flirting with a grown woman who was supposed to be my _mother _was a little too odd for me. Somehow, some time, Nana had started occupying the list of People Whose Sex Life I Never Want to Know.

It was a good thing I was going out.

There was no clue of what happened on the days prior to the first bullet incident with Mochida, but I guessed Reborn was still doing his evaluation and so I decided to carry on as usual. I wouldn't go too far, and I probably needed to return for dinner tonight, but I wasn't giving up my routine. Besides, I wanted to get to know Reborn better.

"I'm going out," I said, shouldering my regular bag instead of the overnight one. I managed to swipe a few cookies on my way out the door. "I'll be back for dinner."

"Bye Tsuna!" Nana waved cheerily.

I'd no sooner taken a step outside before I was bowled over by a kick to the shins. I stuck an arm out and managed to do a side roll and twist upright. Only to fall over again as my leg collapsed under me.

_Shit. _If I had any reservations on Reborn's prowess, they were promptly banished.

I blinked up into large owl-like eyes, "You tried to ditch me."

_Oh __**shit. **_

"Erm, no, actually," I answered honestly, "I kind of expected you to come along since you're still doing the evaluation."

"You didn't invite me."

"I thought you'd come along anyway."

"That was rude."

"Flirting with my mother is rude."

…_I can't believe I just said that._

There was that glint in his eyes again, like he was about to whip out a gun or something. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Leon, had I?

…Oh there he is, snoozing on top of the fedora.

My spine was crawling again.

I blinked. Between one moment and the next, Reborn had managed to teleport in front of the gate. He turned his head back slightly, "Stop lying on the ground like an idiot, dame-Tsuna."

I am not ashamed to say I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could.

xXXx

"Where are you going?"

"…Anywhere. I'm just taking a random walk."

"A mafia boss should not be aimless. Everything you do should have a purpose."

"I am walking randomly_ in order to_ discover places I haven't been to. Namimori is big and if you don't use roads you're familiar with you can end up somewhere completely new."

"A mafia boss should know his surroundings perfectly."

"Which is why I am walking around."

Wack!

"Nngh!"

_Fucking hell… That __**hurt. **_

"…Shit."

"A mafia boss should not swear."

"…Repeat that?"

"…" Wack!

_**Fuckkkkk.**_

xXXx

Sawada Tsunayoshi was a rather strange teenage boy, Reborn mused. He was different in a way that was separate from the usual strangeness that accompanied teenhood. In fact, if Reborn had to describe him, he would say that Sawada Tsunayoshi had an old soul. Certainly not the most uncommon descriptions, but apt.

It was apparent in the way he looked at things—quiet, considering, and careful. It was in the way he walked—a moderate stroll at _andante _that allowed him to take in everything he passed by instead of simply breezing through. It was in how he seemed to see school as little more than a stage to go through, how he preferred to _learn _instead of study, how he took in things at his own pace.

But most of all it was how he succeeded in attaining a level of control over himself.

Observing the boy had been an unusual experience befitting his unusual personality. Iemitsu had provided basic information on his son but, like most second-hand reports, Reborn distrusted it. That they were from a relation to the target simply compounded his distrust.

And consequently, he was proven correct.

The papers had stated Tsunayoshi to be shy and cowardly, which was completely _wrong. _His father had described him as a cute and innocent fawn who was perhaps a little distant (to the man's disgruntlement). There were some notes on his sudden change after an assassination attempt at age five, signed off with assurances by Nono that the boy had not been compromised. He decided to disregard the entire report except for Nono's part after his first stalking.

Iemitsu was blind as a bat and perhaps deaf and retarded too.

Truly, persona bias was a thing to fear, Reborn reaffirmed wryly before returning to his assessment.

This was not the first time he had been to Giappone. While he did not have much business in the territory of the Yakuza, he had travelled extensively and the second home of Vongola Primo was not excluded. He had not visited Namimori (how quaint that the town would share the name he used) specifically, but several similar towns as well as cities.

Which was why it was simple enough to set up a perimeter for observing purposes as well as locate several convenient storehouses for supplies. The mission given by Nono was a long-term one—almost certainly as long as the period he took on the Cavallone boy—and he of all people knew the hows and whys of being prepared.

It was just a little amusing when he found the local underground under the thumb of a Middle School student. Not really surprising—Reborn had seen genii at work—but useful. And shortening the list of tasks on his assignment, seeing as the boy was most certainly going to be joining a family in the future.

It just so happened that Vongola had several openings available.

Identifying and scoping out the house and neighbourhood of his new charge was an easy task. It had hardly been two days before he had settled comfortably into one of his many hideouts with a cup of coffee and a clear view of one Sawada Tsunayoshi. He had certain expectations of the Vongola bloodline, but was rather of the opinion that it depended more on the individual than the entire family.

Iemitsu, after all, fell far below Nono. And Enrico, Massimo, and Frederico had barely scraped by his assessments.

Xanxus, on the other hand, was also a different story.

Tsunayoshi, at first glance, was quiet, unassuming, and very boring. He preferred discretion to valor, which was realistic, but showed no passion. He passed his days with such ordinariness that Reborn had to wonder if the vaunted Vongola Will had skipped a generation. Tsunayoshi was unusual for one of his blood in his sheer _boringness. _

In terms of physical condition, he looked fit, but had not been blessed with a physique for fighting. Small people were quick out of _necessity, _not as a boon. Less mass after all.

They had shorter reach, less jumping power, weaker bones, and smaller muscles. Conditioning could put them on even ground with anybody, but it would be through _extra_ hard work. They simply did not have the natural advantages a taller, or even average height person had.

Mental condition-wise, he was no coward, but he lacked courage. He built walls of indifference and sought solitude where those of the Sky flame should yearn for companionship. His frequent absences from home (which made Reborn have to switch hideouts more than expected) showed an inclination for travel, which could constitute a need for freedom, or simply a way out of the life he had. It was not difficult to see that the boy found his own life lacking.

If first glances made up whole profiles, and if Reborn truly subscribed to first impressions, Tsunayoshi would have ended up as simply a name in a long line of missions. Even spending five or so years with the boy would not pique his interest—after all, he had spent at least twice as long closely acquainted with the youngest of Nono's sons.

Firstly though, there was one large problem he could see looming in the future should the boy survive to adulthood.

_Merda, _the poor kid was so _tiny _when he laid eyes on him. Beside his peers, he stood at least half a head shorter, with doe-eyes and a face that was more cute than handsome. It was only partially redeemed by the solemnness in his gaze and the impassivity of his expression.

Short, skinny, and _cute. _With gravity-defying hair that resembled a bush. It would take a miracle to get the famiglia to accept him as _anything, _much less their _leader. _He'd be challenged every step of the way.

Which was why digging deeper into the psyche of this potential heir of the Vongola had been priority right after establishing himself. Hopefully there would be some spark that could be used and cultivated to make up for the child's unfortunate genetic inheritance.

Closer observation had recovered nuances in the boy's demeanor unlike that of his peers. Certainly, he was a bullied child, and thus socially awkward, but his actions did not truly conform to the type. And several of his characteristics—lack of fear, lack of hesitance, fear of socializing—were in direct contrast to the norm.

Hm. Not so boring, then.

* * *

**Truth be told, I'm still not satisfied with this chapter. It feels lacking. It feels well, unfinished. I have stuff to say, stuff to explain, stuff to expand on. And I'm trying to remain true to my character AND develop new interactions that won't seem trite. I always ask for feedback because I honestly need it to continue writing. I have certain views on my character, indeed I already have ideas on how to approach each Guardian and side character, but I need help keeping things straight. Different opinions and insights help a lot to further develop the character and allow me to tweak situations to Tsu-me's personality.**

**Don't expect things to remain similar to the manga. To those who're wondering about the 'Fate bends everything back to canon' thing. You'll see what I'm talking about later.**

**Memory25**

**PS. I'm overdosed on coffee and extremely irritable. Not an excuse and I probably would be just as snarkish but a lot more eloquent. If 'guest' would like to enter a debate, bring it. But please bring logic to the table because useless quips are useless.**


	8. Chapter 8

**So here's the thing, I've been stuck in a rut for the longest time here. This little piece is just about done, I can't go any further with it, so I guess I'll have to make do with a seriously short chapter and skip to the next one. Ugh, I hate doing that.**

**So okay, I'm finally going to update something, but it's not the huge piece you guys were probably expecting. Sorry! **

* * *

Some days are better than others. Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's others.

Most days it's others.

This fine day?

It's Reborn.

There's something about having a literally baby-faced assassin on your shoulder that makes everything seem that much _heavier. _It's like having the devil that perches on your left without the angel on your right. It's like a constant chill down that shoulder to your spine and to your feet. It makes my bones ache and distracts me and is just a little suffocating.

Just as the silence sitting between us is a little suffocating.

We're both ignoring it, he more successfully than I, but it's tensed and strange and awkward. We're complete strangers despite what he knows of me through years of spying, and what I know of him through the pages of a story.

For all that I know the possible future, he has the advantage.

He is nothing like the Reborn that Tsuna had.

There is no lighthearted banter, no idle threatening. There is no comical violence and no cruel kindness. My Reborn is dark where Tsuna's was middling gray. Where he watched Tsuna with the distant fondness of one's favored pet which turned into favored protégé, he watches me with narrowed eyes and a gun.

It almost makes one jealous.

Instead, it makes me thoughtful. This is a change that I had not deliberately prompted. Obviously, people react differently to other people, but Fate has always been stubborn. Perhaps, in this instance, it is Reborn that has out-stubborned Fate?

Now that's an idea.

There is so much to do, now that the timeline has started. I have my head-start, but it is no overwhelming stopgap. No matter what I do, I am not and never will be, the original Sawada Tsunayoshi. I do not have the Vongola hyperintuition. I do not have the innocent charm inherited from Sawada Nana. I do not have the Naruto-esque 'Will of Fire' that prompts great leaps of competence and defeats every single foe, every single time.

If I had any worry left in me, I would be overcome with it, but years of planning, of waiting, of training has left me with the simple desire to get to the meat of things. I want to _do, _and finally, now is the time.

xXXx

Watching Sawada Tsunayoshi is mildly interesting, Reborn thinks. It is not so much that he is matured, or confident, or different from the very mistaken reports. It is simply that he is so very stubborn even in the face of an adversary that outclasses him on every level. Reborn has made grown men cry with a series of deliberate looks and silences, in fact the very one he uses now, but Tsunayoshi is proving difficult. Perhaps Reborn is ascribing too much credit to heritage, but when you have lived as long as he has, you see that it is true that the apple does not fall far from the tree. This stubbornness is the very core of the Vongola family, even in the least promising.

As Tsunayoshi is showing more than a little promise, Reborn hopes that that core is forged with enough steel to take what he will be throwing at him. Miracles do not exist in his book, and there is no such thing as an untrained child taking on men and women who have lived their whole lives steeped in blood and winning.

(That is not to say that a _trained _child cannot achieve otherwise.)

Watching Sawada Tsunayoshi while he is aware of being watched is very different from when he isn't. For one, it is opposite of normal people. He is more alive under pressure than he has been the previous few weeks. He is stiff-backed and silent as he walks, but there is an intensity to him that was not previously there. It is intriguing and the ramifications of it, more so. It gives Reborn a hoard of information to parse through, which is the reason why he was charged with this task.

The reason why Reborn is Nono's choice as the next head of Vongola's mentor is not just his title as World's Strongest Hitman. In fact, one could say that being the strongest _hitman _would be at counter-purposes to the job. If it was simply to protect the boy, well, he is not the World's Strongest _Bodyguard. _

(That would be someone else.)

The reason why Reborn is selected for this job is because he, out of all the strongest and greatest of the mafia world, possesses the keenest insight. Many judge that Sky Flames produce the most insightful, but if there is one thing that Reborn has learnt, it is that it is not so much the flame that makes the man, but the man that makes the flame. And people are multi-faceted enough that people with the same flame can be direct opposites.

His Sun flames pierce through deception to see beyond facades. They make lying difficult as well as easily detected. The rest is filled in by his not-insignificant experience and intelligence. There is no trick to being insightful, just as there is no trick to becoming the World's Greatest Hitman. Reborn does not _trick. _He is simply strong. And that strength includes smarts.

And Sawada Tsunayoshi is quietly smart, the way Reborn feels is the best way to be. Unassuming is a lethal weapon, just as underestimation is. For all that he despises the body he has been saddled with, he has used its apparent innocence more than once.

Reborn isn't one to subscribe to superstitions or beliefs, but he knows that there is a higher power and that there are some things which are pre-arranged by destiny. He knows there is truth to family heritage, that there must be a reason behind the uncanny resemblance of Sawada Tsunayoshi to his several times great grandfather, Vongola Primo. He knows that there is more to the boy's change at five, but is unsure how it relates to his fate. He _has _met the young child twice—once at the child's month old celebration, the other at three.

The feeling of tiny sparks against his own flame is unforgettable. Children are always a treasure, the way their flames burn so fragile and bright, the colors untarnished and almost transparent, but Sawada Tsunayoshi had been all the more precious. Not just for the strength of his inheritance, but the way his personality had developed to include the gentle kindness of his mother and Nono.

But that flame has now changed. Reborn knows that change is inevitable, especially in growing years, especially through significant trauma, both of which Tsunayoshi has experienced. But for all that this Tsunayoshi is stronger, more confident, and unassumingly smart, Reborn is disappointed.

That bright flame is now cautious in a way it was not. Sadness thrums, a constant vibration under the surface emotions. Laced in every flicker, there is a bone-deep weariness. And worst of all, that gentle kindness is either buried or gone.

It is a pity, but the Sawada Tsunayoshi who had walked away from the incident at five years old is diminished from his past self.

It is just another reminder of the price one pays to be involved in the underworld, Reborn thinks. For all that the Vongola's External Advisor is an admirable ally, he is not a family man. The Young Lion navigates the underworld with ease and skill, commanding the loyalty of his subordinates with his strength and charm.

But all of that fails at his son's feet simply because one does not hold one's family together with _charm. _

And for all of Iemitsu's strengths, for all that he was a remarkable strategist and a suave conversationalist and a _genius _fighter, he will keep failing simply because he still believes that he can win his son over through the sheer force of his personality.

Reborn is not sure if it is a mark of arrogance or a mark of bias that he keeps trying. He is also unsure if it is simple obtuseness or willing blindness that allows Iemitsu to believe that his family is actually functional.

What he _is _sure of, is that it is far too idealistic of him to keep the truth of his work from his wife and child especially with his lineage. Iemitsu is no greenhorn—he knows how hostage situations work. He knows what describes an easy target, knows that Vongola cannot offer protection to one not under its umbrella. Knows that one needs to be properly inducted to be so.

Instead, he places his family in another country—_as if mere distance could separate family from famiglia_—and puts a covert security detail in town—_as if such a flimsy network would even pause his enemies_—and visits them like a summer house—_again, as if an observant person could not make the connection._ It is idealism on a level that is unreal in Reborn's—no, _their—_world.

But that is neither here nor there. Reborn's business is not to criticize one man's way of dealing with his family and famiglia. Reborn's business is to assess his young son and, should he pass, train him to be a leader for the Vongola.

There is a plan of action should Tsunayoshi fail too, Reborn recalls, tugging his fedora firmly.

Civilians cannot be allowed to have such in-depth knowledge of Vongola.

There is only one sworn oath in the underworld that holds weight and that is the omerta.

The omerta is only for members.

For all that Reborn prefers not to, he has always, _always_, been a realist.

xXXx

* * *

**And here I was thinking that Reborn's POV would be tough to write. It isn't, when you take into account that he's basically omnipotent in the manga. So I just pretend he sees all and knows all and thinks about every angle before acting and voila! (Although that also means that I have to wrack my brains to cover every angle, but better than not knowing where to start, no?)**

**SO. I'm back for a bit. I'm still writing, no worries and all, but Adoption has hit a TITANIUM wall and I'm cracking my head over how to get over it. I have so many little pieces of Adoption ficlets lying everywhere (some from the prompts given) but I still haven't found a way to join the separate points together on the timeline...Ugh...**

**There are lots of pieces where words flow like water, but at the important parts, I can't seem to get a word edgewise. :/ **

**And I KNOW how many people are waiting to find out what happens in canon...**

**SO. I have decided that it looks like the titanium wall will not be crumbling to my soft head anytime soon, which is why I am going to let the thing rest until it does. That means Adoption the official storyline is being set aside until my words come back.**

**HOWEVER, that does not mean that I've abandoned you guys. In fact, I'm not doing that at all. I've got all these little bits of ficlets that jump all over the place, and I don't like to spoil stories but I also don't like leaving you guys in the lurch. So I'm making a side 'story' in which I'm depositing all the ficlets for people who don't mind spoilers to enjoy. There is no chronological order, but well...**

**The canon bits are really juicy, and I have whole 3k chapter chunks of them that were meant to be in the official story. But since it's taking forever to get there, I'm getting the impression that my muse intended the story to end before canon. (Wait, don't riot just yet!) That doesn't mean that I can't write about what happens in certain parts of canon and put it up though. Unfortunately, that means that the 'canon' part of the story will be told only in bits and pieces of scenarios not unlike a drabble collection. :/ I'm kinda pissed off at that, but I think I need more feedback so I can write more, which means spoiling my story as well as chopping it up. Q.Q**

**There's probably a rewrite in the future with the way things are going...**

**In any case, I'm going to put up a few of my ficlets, the first of which is the 'prize' ficlet for prompts. ^^ After a bit more feedback, I'll sort through my ficlet collection and try to put them up as closely to chronological order as I can. **

**That's it I guess. **

**~Memory25**


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